Twisted Moths
by iminthedance818
Summary: Post DKR. Bane is gone, but so is Batman. Can Gotham Rebuild without its dark knight? More importantly, can Dick Grayson?
1. Part 1

Part One:

There was knocking at the door. I had no idea how long it been going on; Wayne Manor was a big place and there was no doorbell on this side of the house. I stopped short, in the foyer, as I heard it. Who would knock on Bruce Wayne's door?

I debated opening it. Anyone coming to kill me- or anyone coming to kill the Batman- wouldn't knock, and anyone who knocked couldn't be that important. That left only girl scouts and Jehovah's Witnesses. Neither option was appealing in any way, but I was curious. Everyone in Gotham knew the Batman was dead and the manor was under the control of the state, the only reason I had access to it. Had I been found out? Did someone finally find the batcave?

I opened the door.

Of all the things I might've been expecting, it was not this. A young redheaded girl in jeans and a long black jacket, looking at me skeptically.

"We don't want any girl scout cookies," I deadpanned.

She disregarded what I'd said, beginning anew like I hadn't greeted her at all, "I'm looking for the Batman."

* * *

"The Batman is dead," I said for the third time, pouring two cups of tea.

"No he isn't," The girl said indignantly. "You have to believe that. He's stronger than that."

"Stronger than a nuclear bomb?"

"Autopilot," She suggested.

"There was no autopilot," I told her.

"Maybe he jumped out,"

"He wouldn't have been able to maintain a safe distance from the explosion in the time that he had." I sighed, "Look, this is futile. Dead or not, he's gone. And why wouldn't he come back if he was alive?"

"Maybe he's enjoying the freedom," She shrugged. "He's done so much for this city. Half of which no one even knows about. If anyone deserves a break its him. I just thought- hoped- that he'd be here."

I scoffed, "I don't know who you are, girl scout, or how you know any of this, but let me give you a little bit of advice: Go home. You're messing around with things you cannot hope to understand."

"I have no intention of going home," She said. "You said it yourself: The Batman is gone. And just because Bane is too doesn't mean this city can go without protection."

"And you think that protection should be you?"

"Why not?"

"No offense darling," I said. "But you're not exactly the hero type."

"You don't know anything about me," She ground out.

"No, I don't," I admitted. "Why don't you start with your name?"

"Barbara," She said after a pause.

"Barbara," I nodded, "Now we're getting somewhere. How do you know about the Batman, Barbara?"

"My father,"

"Your father," I repeated.

She nodded, "James Gordon."

"James Gor- Commissioner Gordon?" I said, incredulous.

Barbara nodded again.

"Commissioner Gordon is your father?"

"Yes,"

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen," She said.

"Does your father know you're here?"

"I said _nineteen_," She growled. "Not _nine_. I don't need my father's permission."

"You do if he's the commissioner," I said. "You think you can just waltz up here in broad daylight demanding the see the Batman and nobody's going to say anything? Your father has made it clear: There is no place for vigilantes in Gotham anymore."

"Then what are you still doing here?" She asked.

It was a loaded question and it meant so many things and she knew that, but she continued to glare stonily at me with one eyebrow raised. She was right, of course, but I didn't know what the point was. She came here looking for the Batman and I'd told her he was gone. What did she expect? I was no Bruce Wayne.

"Go home, Barbara," I said. "Pray your father doesn't find out you were here."

She scoffed to herself, like she was disappointed. I watched as she gathered her coat from the back of her chair, "Gotham _needs_ vigilantes, Dick."

* * *

I didn't realize until almost two weeks later that I had never told her my name.

I'd been mulling over the conversation for the better part of ten days, trying to figure out what it meant and I still didn't have much of a clue. She obviously believed that Gotham needed some sort of protection. Since Bane we had gotten better, but we still had one of the highest crime rates this half of America. But what did she expect to happen? I couldn't imagine her persuading Bruce Wayne into giving her a spandex suit and a Batmobile.

That begged the question; why did she stay and argue with me after she'd found out the Batman was gone. Did she think I was hiding him in the basement? Or did she think that since I was there, in his home, answering his door, that I was talking over for him?

The whole situation was so ridiculous I had trouble believing it had actually happened. Commissioner Gordon's daughter popping up on my- Bruce's- doorstep and demanding vigilance? I knew it was hard to find able and willing cops in Gotham, everyone knew it, but I thought that at least the commissioner's daughter would have some faith in the police force.

I was thinking too much about it, to the point where I was losing sleep, which just made it all the more ridiculous. Barbara Gordon meant nothing. She was just a teenager, looking to rebel against her father. I heard children with powerful parents often did that.

_She means nothing. She's nineteen. Forget about it._

This became a mantra of sorts, a mindless loop I repeated to myself when I found myself too lost in thought about it, mainly at night when I was tossing and turning. Even now I thought it as I sipped my coffee and made my way through the shops to my squad car.

People were bustling about all around me. It was three weeks until Christmas, Gotham's first since Bane and people seemed determined to make it a good one despite the doom nipping at our heels. I paused in front of a cafe, waiting for the cars to pass when I saw a flash of red hair. Gotham was a big city and of all the thoughts I had about Barbara I hadn't really considered bumping into her casually on the street. But there she was. Laughing and drinking coffee in the cafe with another college-age girl. I was glad I saw her first because I don't know how I would've reacted if she'd been the one to walk up to me.

As I looked in through the window her friend left the booth with a wave and I made the split second, a probably stupid decision, to dart into the cafe, taking her friend's place across the table. Now, most people go rigid and nervous around cops. Not Barbara Gordon. She'd most likely grown up around cops, not to mention her father who may look pretty average in stature but actually packs quite a wallop.

"Officer Grayson," She greeted with a cocked eyebrow.

"Funny seeing you here," I said.

"Yes, it is weird for college girls to hang out in coffee shops," She said.

"I just thought you'd be out interrogating other cops about their knowledge of the Batman,"

"Only on the weekends,"

I didn't quite know what to make of her. She was so relaxed, even joking with me. Like we were old friends.

"You seem to know a lot about me, Barbara," I said. "It's a wonder you had to come question me at all."

"I didn't come to question _you_," She said. "Nor did I know you were staying in Wayne manor. But I do know a lot about you."

"From your father?" I found it a little unnerving that Commissioner Gordon was talking about _me_ to his family.

She laughed softly, "You really don't remember do you, Dick?"

"Remember what?"

"About a year ago, my father was in the hospital, dying. I left to get coffee and when I came back you were leaving. You bumped right into me. Spilled coffee all over my favorite shirt. I didn't hear anything you talked about, but when I asked my father who you were he said you'd be the one to save Gotham. After that I decided to learn everything I could about the handsome man who saved my father."

"I thought you left," I told her. "Your mom took you to Ohio well before Bane."

"She did," Barbara said. "I came back when I heard my father was shot and… well, I guess I was stuck here."

"And you stayed," I deduced. "To stalk me."

She shrugged.

"Well, you're right. I don't remember that."

She shrugged, "I guess you were too busy saving the city."

"That was Batman," I corrected.

"You played your part," She said. "And I know a lot of people don't know it, but I do. And if I recall correctly you saved the city _and _managed not to blow yourself up."

"Are you accepting that the Batman is dead now?"

She shrugged once more, "You were right. It doesn't really matter if he's alive or dead. He's gone. And someone has to take his place."

"Meaning me?"

"Why not?"

"It's not my place."

"Then whose is it?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe no one's."

"You can't believe that,"

"I believe," I said. "That Gotham can fix itself. We've grown stronger since Bane. We don't need the Batman anymore, and I'm doing what I can in the meantime."

"What? With your badge and your gun and your squad car?" She scoffed. "You know that none of that means jack shit to the bad guys."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, girl scout, Bane and Harvey Dent and the Joker are all gone. So unless one of them or something worse shows up, drop it."

"Would Batman drop it?"

"Maybe it's not a good thing to be Batman," I said. "He is dead after all."

* * *

Wayne manor was a place literally built for lonely men. Needless to say, I felt right at home.

It was left pretty much as it was when Bruce Wayne died, Alfred took what was his and the city took some of the more priceless things as collateral for the damage done to the city and for the Batman museum that would open within the year. Bruce specified in his will that his home was to be used as a boys' home and in the end the house was divided in two. One half for the boys. One half for me. It took a few months persuasion, but eventually Gordon let me have the run of the place for an indefinite amount of time to discover whatever secrets the Batman might still be hiding. I hadn't gotten around to telling him about the batcave yet.

In the eight months I'd had in the house I'd counted 28 rooms, four secret passageways and a hidden room behind a bookcase and that was just in my half. I couldn't imagine what the boys had found. Bruce Wayne really knew how to spend his inheritance. There was so much space and no one to watch me or pressure me or invade my thoughts. It was nice, and I was used to the solitude.

I was struck by just how similar the Batman and I were. Both orphans, both grew up in the same boys' house, both ended up in the same fight with Bane. If only a few things were different it could've been me flying that bomb out of the city and blowing up with it. I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

I got up early that Tuesday, for no reason other than I had chosen a bedroom in the east wing and the sun had woken me up. As far as I knew, it was a normal morning and I hadn't thought about Barbara Gordon in a few days. It seemed that impromptu meeting had cleared my head a little bit. Which it shouldn't have because she basically told me she'd been stalking me for a year and wanted me to take over for the Batman. I guess there was closure in the fact that at least I knew where she was coming from now. Before she had come at me like a baseball from left field and I was lying in the sand trying to sort out my thoughts.

The coffee maker grumbled awake alongside me, protesting endlessly as I tried to find the right buttons. Nearly a year with the damned thing and I still didn't know how to properly use it. Eventually it gurgled in a promising way and I left it to retrieve the morning paper.

Everything at Wayne manor was huge, including the driveway, so I had to almost get fully dressed to get it. Summertime was a different story, but now that there was snow on the ground I had to go with boots rather than flip flops. I opened the door, looking down to see the rolled newsprint already on the doormat.

I picked it up, removing the rubber band to find the headline "Gotham City Museum Jewel Heist" staring at me in big block letters. It must've happened while I was asleep and I'd likely get a call from the precinct for me to assist in the investigation. My eyes traveled down the article only to be interrupted by a bright blue sticky note that simply said, "**What Would Batman Do?**" in hastily scribbled handwriting.

It was Barbara, had to be. I looked out across the lawn as if I would see her hiding in the bushes. I had no idea how she'd gotten past the gate (I'd started locking it again after her first invasion), or how she'd intercepted my newspaper, but it was apparent that our interaction at the cafe hadn't deterred her in the least. If she was anything like her father I might never see the end of this.

* * *

Two hours later I was ducking under the caution tape, trying not to spill the coffee I'd bought since Bruce's high tech devil machine had failed again to give me what I'd wanted. Paparazzi and other patrons stood around, ogling and snapping pictures of absolutely nothing because the real crime scene was back further in the museum.

From what I could see there wasn't much of a crime scene at the actual crime scene. Just an empty glass case and about a thousand forensics detectives dusting for fingerprints that weren't there.

"Dick!" Commissioner Gordon called. "About time."

I tossed my coffee and joined the commissioner where he was overseeing the investigation. "Gordon. What've we got?"

"Absolutely nothing." He said. "They're good. Too good. We might be dealing with a repeat offender."

"And all they took was the jewels?" I asked. "We dealing with another Catwoman?"

"I don't think so," He said. "She left marks. She wanted the recognition more than the jewels. All this one wanted was the stuff. And they knew exactly how to get it."

"So, if they left no trail what do we do?" I asked. "Just wait until they strike again? That seems pretty inefficient."

"Until more information comes to light, we don't really have much of a choice," Gordon said. "I'll have to send someone undercover. See if they're being sold on the black market."

"I'll go," I offered.

He scoffed, "Sorry, Dick. I need you on the front lines. Besides. Stealth isn't really your thing."

_Tell your daughter that_, I thought.

"How's your daughter doing Gordon?" I asked.

I was trying to sound casual, but we both knew I had never asked about Barbara before. Nevertheless, I kept eye contact with him like there wasn't anything strange about it.

"Uh, she's good," He finally said. "Growing up too fast."

_I'll say._ "They often do."

"Yeah, she goes to the university downtown," He said.

"She staying safe?" I asked. "Downtown can be a dangerous place for a young girl."

"I worry about her," He said. "But she's anything but incompetent."

"And your boys?" I added to seem less intrusive. "Your wife?"

"Ex-wife," He corrected. "Why all this interest in my personal life, Dick?"

I shrugged, "It's the holidays. I'm curious about what other families do."

When in doubt, play the orphan card.

Gordon nodded, "Tony is still down in Cleveland, James is all the way in California. Babs is the only one who stuck around. None of them are happy about what I do. But somebody's gotta do it. Babs seems to be the only one who gets it."

"We wouldn't want you anywhere else, Gordon," I said.

* * *

Why she thought that she'd be able to hide her identity with that flaming red hair was beyond me. But, then again, so was her thinking she could take on a man twice her size.

"Goddamn it," I muttered, slamming my fist against the steering wheel.

I slammed on the breaks, skidding to a stop at the curb. I half twisted around to the back seat to retrieve my gun from my belt. It is true that a cops' job is never done. Especially in Gotham.

Cocking my gun, I stepped out into the rain. Barbara and the mugger paid me no mind as I made my way down the alley. She was doing a better job than most people in the city would and I wondered just how often she thanked God she was a policeman's daughter. But he was wearing her down and earned himself a nice punch to her jaw.

"Hey!" I shouted over the rain. "Back off."

"Why don't you back off, man?" The man shouted back, brandishing a knife.

"Because I'm the one with the gun," I said, waving the firearm.

Sure enough, he ran off, dropping the dagger on the pavement. I lowered my gun and turned to see Barbara flat against the brick, breathing heavily. Rain was rolling off the both of us in rivers, although I'd only been out in it a few minutes.

"Thanks," She panted.

"What the hell are you doing?" I shouted.

"What?" She growled.

"Come on," I took her arm. "Let's get out of this damn rain."

"Stop it, Dick!" She protested, ripping her arm out of my grasp. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Well, you're sure as hell not staying out here," I cornered her against the passenger door. "Now. Get. In. The. Car."

I must've looked pretty scary because she dropped her strong shoulders and slid into the car. I slammed the door behind her and stalked back to the driver's side. The engine revved as we sped off down the soaked street and Barbara sat with her arms crossed indignantly.

"So are we just gonna ignore the fact that you're basically stalking me?" She said finally.

"Says the girl who knows every single detail of my life," I shot back. "Believe me, Barbara, I would love nothing less than to never see you again. Hell, a month ago I didn't even know you existed. Now, every corner I turn, there you are. With your red hair and your death wish."

"Death wish?"

"You're psychotic, you know that," I said. "Waltzing around _Gotham_ at midnight, in the sleet. You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Nobody asked you to save me, Dick," She said. "I didn't _need_ saving."

"What were you gonna do? _Sarcasm_ your way out of a knife? Or did I miss the weapon that you didn't have?"

"You've got quite a temper on you, Dick Grayson," She mused.

"I do when nineteen year old girls go out to fight muggers with their bare hands after I told them to _drop it._"

"Where are you going?" She questioned. "GU is the other way."

"I'm not taking you back to the college," I said.

"Where are you taking me, then?"

"Somewhere I can keep an eye on you," I said. "How do I know that after I drop you off at school that you won't come back out here to prove your strength or whatever?"

"What are you gonna do? Tie me to a chair and forbid me from leaving?" She scoffed.

"If I have to,"

"I'm not a child, Dick," She told me,

"Then stop acting like one."

* * *

It was still raining when Babs and I made it back to the manor. I hauled her inside, still fuming, and all but tossed her into the living room.

"Sit down," I ordered.

"Stop telling me what to do," She gritted.

"I'll tell you what to do all I want," I shouted. "You wanna act like a little girl, I'll treat you like a little girl."

"You're not my father,"

"No, I'm not," I admitted. "Why don't we call him and let him know what his _only daughter_ has been up to?"

She clenched her jaw, face hardening.

"That's what I thought," I said. "Sit down."

She sat.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I demanded.

"The Batman is gone," She said. "And you refuse to step up to the plate so-"

"So what? You take it upon yourself?" I asked. "Is this your passive-aggressive way of getting me to meet your psychotic demands? Because it's pretty fucking extreme."

"Somebody's gotta protect this city,"

"And you, a college girl with a superiority complex and no fighting skills, are the ideal person for the job? Get real, Barbara."

"At least I'm doing something!"

"That something is going to get you killed."

"It's none of your business," She crossed her arms.

"It became my business when you popped up on my doorstep," I said. "And it's gonna be my business when I'm the one who has to tell your father that you _died_ trying to finish the Batman's work."

"At least I would've died doing something meaningful," She mumbled. "Batman once said, 'You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.' Which will you be?"

"Barbara," I sighed. "You're young. You're pretty. You're smart. Focus on that. Not everything has to be life or death."

"Everything _is_ life or death here, Dick!" She shouted. "This city has problems and I wish we were strong enough to fix them on our own. I wish my father was enough of a hero, but he's not. We're not. Not yet. I'll admit that I'm not the best choice for this job, but our best choice blew up in a plane and the second best is hiding in a mansion that isn't his and working for my father. I'd gladly drop this, if there was someone to take my place."

"You don't get it, Barbara," I said. I had run out of steam, out of fight. I just wanted this conversation to be over. "Batman isn't a job just anyone can do."

"You aren't just anyone,"

"I'm not this iron savior that you seem to think I am," I told her. "I'm just a guy, Babs. And I'm not Batman."

"Maybe we don't need another Batman, Dick," She said. "Maybe we need something better."

"I am not better than the Batman," If nothing else, that was true.

"In some ways you are," She said. "You're like some mixture of Batman and my father. You have the best of both worlds. You just don't see it yet."

"This conversation is going in circles, Barbara," I sighed. "Just- we'll talk about it in the morning. It's late and we both need some sleep."

"You're serious about making me stay here?" She asked.

"It's too late to go back and too dangerous," I said. "I'll find you a bedroom for the night."

"Those must be hard to come by here," She said.

"Think about what I've said, Babs," I pleaded. "There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity."

"And there's a fine line between cowardice and knowing your place," She countered. "You're not a coward, Richard Grayson. So stop acting like one."

* * *

I didn't sleep much that night, even though I was dead tired. I set Barbara up in a room in the opposite wing of my own, so I wouldn't have to deal with her any longer. The problem wasn't that she was annoying, because she was, and the problem wasn't because I felt responsible for her, because I did. The problem was that she was right. I'd been living my life a certain way, following a certain set of rules and, until now, I wouldn't have even _thought _to think otherwise.

Barbara Gordon had this way of changing my perspective on things. She had a way of thinking that was unlike anyone I'd ever known and she made just as many good points as I did. At this rate we'd remain at a stalemate until the end of time. Unless something gave. And I was beginning to think it would be me.

When I woke up in the morning I had trouble convincing myself that I had gotten any sleep at all. I was still in the east wing so the sun was shining right on my face. I dressed quickly, making my way down to the kitchen, telling myself I needed breakfast, but I was really just stalling so I didn't have to face Barbara so early in the morning.

But, of course, Barbara Gordon wouldn't be avoided. When I got down to the kitchen she was there, wearing my police academy t shirt and a pair of small shorts that could've been underwear, cooking something at the stove.

"Eggs were the only actual breakfast food you had," She said. "So forgive me if it's not Bruce Wayne caliber."

"You made breakfast?" I asked.

"I figured it was the least I could do," She shrugged. "After putting you out last night."

"You didn't put me out, Barbara," I sighed. "I was harsh-"

"You told me to think about what you'd said," She interrupted. "And I did. Now, I haven't changed my opinion that Gotham needs protection, but I have decided that you were right. I don't have what it takes to protect this city. But you do."

"Do I?"

"I'll back off, if you promise to step up as protector of this city," She said.

"You drive a hard bargain, Barbara Gordon," I said.

"Take it or leave it,"

"I've been thinking too," I told her. "Per your request. And I decided that _you_ were right. The Batman started out exactly like I did. If anyone has a chance of taking over for him it's me."

"I should've let you go first," She said.

"You should also let me finish," I continued. "I've also decided that your adamance and drive is too good to be wasted. I'll teach you to fight and, once I think you're ready, you can join me."

"Are you serious?" She asked, smiling.

"I'm dead serious," I told her. "But we wait until next year, alright? Enjoy Christmas, enjoy New Years, then we'll start."

"You're not gonna be one of _those_ guys, are you?" She asked. "'Oh, just one more month, Barbara. Just two more months.' Because if you think-"

"You have my word," I said. "We can start January second if you want."

She looked at me for a long time before she finally said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not making me regret making you breakfast," She said.

"I'd do anything for a good plate of eggs," I told her.

"You want some coffee, too?"

"What?" I asked.

"Coffee," She held a mug out to me.

"How did you do that?"

"Well, first I ventured out into the rainforest for some coffee beans and then-"

"I've been trying to get that damned thing to work for _months_," I said.

"Were you trying to make cappuccinos?" She asked.

"Cappuccinos?"

"It was on cappuccino mode," She told me. "You'd have to switch it back to coffee mode to make coffee. It's an espresso, cappuccino and a coffee maker. Though, I must admit, I never pegged Bruce Wayne for a cappuccino kind of guy."

"And what kind of guy did you peg me for?" I asked.

"Coffee. Two sugars. No cream," She offered me the mug again and this time I took it.

"You're a very perceptive girl," I told her. "Perceptive and stubborn."

"It's the tree that bends that doesn't break," She quoted.

"What happened that made you like that?" I asked.

"You were the one that convinced the Batman to get back out there," She said. "I wanted to be the one that convinced _you_ to get back out there."

It wasn't an answer to my question, but it was good enough. I smiled back at her, sipping the coffee. It was even better than when I made it.

"You need a ride back to school?" I asked.

"If you're offering," She said.

"Wouldn't want to shatter the illusion that you're not just a normal girl."

* * *

Christmas Eve was probably one of the best nights of every child in Gotham's life. I didn't remember the last time I'd been excited for Christmas. Even with my parents, at the circus, we hadn't done much for Christmas. We usually had a show to do and then afterwards we had a small gift exchange with a few of the other circus freaks.

When I was in the boys' home celebrating holidays was deemed an act of weakness and most of us didn't want to think about our families and over the years I'd learned to treat them like any other day. But it seemed different this year.

Maybe because Batman was gone, or maybe because the year before I'd been trying to evade an atom bomb, or maybe it was Barbara Gordon. Nevertheless, I didn't feel like being alone so I ditched my police gear and headed out to find a club.

The newest one in town was called Birdy and I hadn't been and didn't plan on it, but I figured I could scope out potential drug rings and keep my mind off the impending holiday at the same time. In the end I wasn't doing much of either of those things. I'd had three drinks and flirted with two different girls. I wasn't much for dancing and the whole time I knew that I was doing everything just to avoid my own thoughts.

On my fourth trip back to the bar I was honestly wondering why it had taken her this long to pop up again. She was different this time than I'd ever seen her. She wasn't wearing her simple school clothes or my shirt. Her makeup was dark and her top was low cut and her jeans were tight. It seemed Barbara Gordon was never through surprising me.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, sliding up behind her.

She jumped, nearly spilling her drink and when she turned to me it was clear, by her droopy eyes, that she was pretty drunk. "Jesus. You scared me."

"This is a 21 and over club," I told her.

She took another long pull from her glass, "And?"

"And you're nineteen," I said. "And drunk.

"Oh, come on, Dick," She drawled. "Leave the badge at home for once."

"I may be off duty," I said. "But what kind of example would I be setting if I saw a crime being committed and I didn't turn it in?"

"I think it's about time you acted like a civvie," She slurred. "Only if for a night."

"You do this often?" I asked.

"Do what?"

"This," I gestured to her apparent clubbing getup. "This skimpy clothes and intoxicated flirting thing."

"Are you noticing my skimpy clothes or what's under them?" She asked wryly, playing with the collar of my shirt.

"Well isn't that the point?" I replied, smiling.

"I didn't expect to see you here, if that's what you're asking," She said.

"What would you wear if you were expecting me?" I was flirting, I knew it. But so was she.

"Shouldn't we be on the phone for this?" She ran a finger down my chest and I stopped her hand.

"Maybe you should go home, Babs," I said.

"I'd go home with you," She breathed, stepping impossibly close to me.

"Babs," I sighed, looking down to where her chest pressed against mine.

"My eyes are up here, Dick," She told me, titling my head up to look at her face. She was about the same height as me in her heeled boots. "And so is my mouth."

Next thing I knew, her lips were against mine and I wasn't stopping her or pulling away. I knew she was drunk and underage and her father was my boss, but at that point I couldn't be bothered to care.

* * *

One steamy cab ride later and we were bursting through the front door of Wayne manor, hands everywhere. Her plump red lips were open against mine, sucking air from my lungs and tonguing at the inside of my cheek. My mind was hazy from the alcohol and looking back on it, I really didn't know what I was doing, but for that short amount of time I wasn't thinking about anything but her ass in my hands. And that was good enough for me.

"You'll have to lead the way," She told me, breathless. "I wouldn't know the first place to look for a bedroom in this palace."

I lifted her up without a word, bringing her lips back to mine. It was apparent then that we both knew where this was going and neither of us were going to stop it. My hands slid beneath the back of her shirt, feeling how her back bowed under my touch. It'd been a long time since I'd been with a woman, too long. I didn't know if Barbara Gordon strictly counted as a woman, but again, I was too caught up in her to care.

Wayne manor looked completely different in the dark and trying to find a bedroom with Barbara wrapped around me made it even more difficult to manage. I counted the bedroom doors with one hand and kept the other locked firmly around her, until I reached the fifth door and pushed my way inside.

I let Barbara slide down onto the bed so I could reach into the nightstand for my box of condoms.

"Wow," Barbara mused. "Birth control at the ready. Just how many women do you bring back her Mr. Grayson?"

"Oh, loads," I replied, tugging my shirt over my head.

"Living in Bruce Wayne's old house must get you tons of action," She said, pulling off her own shirt.

"You'd be surprised," I said.

"Pleasantly, I hope," Her mouth curled up seductively and she slid to the edge of the bed to undo my belt.

I kissed her again, tasting the alcohol on her breath and giving her some of my own, backing her down onto the bed so she was lying beneath me. I made a lot of mistakes thereafter, but sleeping with Barbara Gordon was one that actually got me to a good place.

* * *

I woke up to a head of red hair tickling my nose. I sat up, groaning as I became aware of my hangover and looked over to see Barbara's bare back against my sheets. I rubbed my hands over my face. The night before was one big blur. A blur that involved her hips against mine and my hands covering her bare chest.

"Shit," I hissed.

She stirred for a moment, then bolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest, "Shit." She echoed.

"Your father's gonna kill me," I said.

"It's Christmas, isn't it?" She asked.

I looked over at her incredulously, "Yes."

"Mmm," She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Were you drunk?"

"I didn't think so," I told her. "But apparently I was wrong."

"Jesus, what time is it?" She leaned over to the nightstand to turn the clock towards her. "Shit. I've still gotta get back to my dorm."

"Babs," I said. "We should… talk about this."

"About what?" She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, snagging her bra from the floor. "Hook this for me."

"We slept together," I told her, hooking the two sides together. It seemed weird that I was putting her bra back on when just a few hours ago I was ripping it off.

"Uh huh," She said.

"I mean, we- you're not a…" I cleared my throat. "You've done this before. Right?"

She scoffed, "I'm _nineteen_. Not nine."

"Come on, Babs," I said. "This is kind of a big deal."

"No it's not," She insisted, sliding on her pure lace underwear. "We were drunk, Dick. Don't read too much into it. I'm not going to expect you to call me, or ask me out, or confess your undying love for me, okay? It was nothing."

"Right," I said. "Nothing."

I watched in silence as she collected the rest of her clothes, pulling back on her top so I was reminded just how presumptuous it was. Of course she wasn't a virgin. It seemed more than alcohol had been clouding my senses the night before.

Barbara stopped in the doorway, looking back at me before she left, "Merry Christmas, Dick."

I stayed in bed after she left. It wasn't nothing. But maybe it should've been.

* * *

I'd been to Commissioner Gordon's house before, but I'd never sat at his dining room table with his sons and his ex wife, drinking champagne. And certainly not less than twelve hours after fucking the brains out of his daughter. I sat nervously, hoping that no one at the table could read minds.

"Well, Jesus, dad," Tony said. "Is she ever going to show up?"

"Babs is like a wizard," James said. "She arrives precisely when she means to."

"She lives just up the street," Tony countered. "She should've been the first one here."

_And she would've been. Had she not been naked in my bed._ I thought.

"I'm here!" Barbara called from the front door. "Sorry I'm late, but I made it. And I brought presents!"

Barbara senior was the first one up from the table to hug her daughter as she came in the room. Babs hugged her mother back, but the whole exchange seemed awkward and estranged. When she pulled back she spotted me and her eyes didn't leave mine even while she hugged both of her brothers.

"What's wrong, baby sister?" James asked. "Seen a ghost?"

"Uh, no," She blinked a couple times. "Just didn't expect so many people."

"Hi, Babs," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

"I heard something about presents," Tony said.

"In the bag," Babs handed him a paper bag. "Go nuts. I need to have a word with Detective Grayson, anyway."

She jerked her head toward the door for me to follow her into the family room. I reluctantly got up, leaving my champagne on the table with her family.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded.

"Your father invited me," I shrugged.

"God," She hissed, dropping her face into her hand.

"What's wrong? You don't want me here?" I asked.

"It's not that," She said. "But you could've told me."

"I was otherwise occupied," I said.

"You can't tell him," She said.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" I asked.

"No," She said. "I'm just making sure. He doesn't- _nobody_- needs to know about it. Understand?"

"Hey, I get it," I said. "You don't want daddy to know you're not his little girl anymore."

"The fact that you think I was ever his _little girl_ is appalling," She sighed,

"You know where we are?" I asked.

"What?"

"Look up,"

She did, and, when her gaze dropped back down to mine, she was smirking, "Mistletoe, Dick? Really?"

"Just a little Christmas kiss?" I suggested.

"I think you've had enough Christmas kisses from me," Babs deadpanned.

"It can be your Christmas gift to me," I said. "Unless you've got something in that bag of presents for me."

She rolled her eyes, "You're incorrigible." But she stretched up on her toes to press her lips to mine anyway.

It started out chaste, I'll give us that, but soon her tongue was in my mouth and my hand was snaking up into her hair. Her hands pressed into my chest and her body followed soon after, taking me instantly back to the night before. I didn't think I'd object to her jumping my bones every time she saw me, but her family _was_ in the other room.

In the end, it was her that broke the kiss. Reluctantly she pulled back, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

"I think that was more than a kiss," She breathed.

"Barbara, we- oh," Her mother interrupted, stopping in the doorway when she saw our close proximity. "Uh, dinner's almost ready."

"Okay, mom," Babs said. "We'll be in in a minute."

Her mother looked skeptical, but left all the same.

"And I was worried we wouldn't have anything to talk about at dinner," Babs said.

"I just hope your brothers don't jump me on the way to my car," I said.

"You could take 'em," She told me. "Their bark is worse than their bite."

"So, I guess another kiss is out of the question then," I said.

"I'll need a few more drinks first," Babs told me, winking.

* * *

"So, how long have you been a cop, Dick?" Barbara senior asked over her champagne glass.

"Uh, about five years now," I replied.

"We heard you helped our old man out during Bane," Tony said.

"Helped Batman out too," Babs said.

"Really?" Tony said. "You met him."

I nodded, "Not a very talkative fellow."

"Well, what was he like?" Tony asked. "Was he awesome?"

"Come on, Tony," James sighed. "He doesn't want to talk about the Batman. Dick, you don't have to answer that."

"Shut up, Jimmy," Babs said. "Let him talk."

"He was pretty awesome," I said. "But I think your father knew more about him than I ever would."

"Batman isn't a man who likes to share his secrets," Gordon said.

Of course Babs, Gordon and I knew the truth about the Batman. Until that point I didn't know how much the rest of the Gordon family knew about his secret identity and then I realized that there wasn't really a way they would know. They'd left way before Bane and even the commissioner didn't know who he was until he was gone. I didn't know how close Gordon and the other Barbara were after they split, but apparently they weren't so close for him to share the identity of the Batman.

"Batman is a man with a lot of toys and a God complex," James said. "I don't know why you two idolize him so much."

"Just because you're so bitter about him doesn't mean everyone has to be," Babs said. "You could show some respect. He _did_ save your life."

"You could show some indifference," James countered. "You weren't even there that night."

"It's not my fault Grandma Gordon likes me more than you," Babs smirked.

"It just doesn't make sense why you worship him," James said. "You never even got near him."

I couldn't help but notice that both Gordon and his ex wife were strangely quiet. It had been Gordon's inability to give up his job of justice that drove them apart, but I suspected the Batman played a huge part in that. They were married for a long time and produced three kids so it's not like they could avoid each other completely. But conversations like this probably didn't make it any easier.

"Alright, enough about the Batman," Tony interrupted. "Let's change the subject completely. Dad tells you live in the old Wayne manor."

Babs snorted into her champagne glass and I fought the urge to laugh myself. If they only knew how closely related those two subjects were.

"I do," I said. "Well, one half of it."

"What's that like?" The elder Barbara asked.

"Big," I said. "But, uh, the boys are right next door. I try to help them as much as I can. There's just so much space."

"Didn't Bruce Wayne live in the same boys' home as you?" James asked.

"For a little while," I replied. "Until that butler of his plucked him out of it. He was one of the lucky ones I suppose."

"I think you turned out alright," Babs told me.

"Orphans tend to be resourceful people," I said. "But not all of us have good endings. I've locked up a few kids I grew up with."

"Well, you sound like a nice happy medium then," Barbara senior said. "Not Bruce Wayne and not in jail."

"Let's just hope that Wayne manor doesn't rub off on you," Babs said. "Next thing you know he'll be ordering us around and asking us to back out of the room."

* * *

After dinner all the members of the Gordon family just kind of milled about and Barbara and I ended up in the living room, looking at old pictures.

"James was so buck-toothed," She giggled. "He tries to live it down, but Tony and I won't let him forget. We called him 'Beaver Gordon' for years."

"I'm sure they've got worse stuff on you," I said.

"Actually…" She said, reaching below the coffee table for another album. "I think my dad still has the picture… Yes! Check that out."

She handed me the book and on the page was a picture of Babs when she was about ten with two teeth missing a purple bruise under her eye.

"Do you have a black eye?" I asked.

She nodded, "I got into a fight with this boy on the playground the day before. He said the Batman was a murderer and I wasn't having any of that."

"So your obsession with Batman isn't a new thing, then?" I teased.

"Nope. I was brainwashed from an early age," She said. "James used to tell me over and over about how Batman saved him from Harvey Dent. I didn't know yet that I wasn't supposed to tell people that side of the story. I got in trouble in school until I was about 14. Then I figured out that sometimes you have to pretend to fit in or forever be an outcast."

"Fitting in is overrated," I told her. "I don't think the Batman ever tried to fit in."

"And he was hunted by all of Gotham," She reminded me.

I shrugged, "There's always been people who believed in him. Its funny how one bad action can erase a thousand good ones."

Barbara nodded, like she understood, leaning back against the pillows, taking the picture with her, "My mom was so pissed. Her only daughter fighting at school, the horror. My dad, though, he was proud of me. Had the damn picture framed. He always taught me to stand up for what I believed in. I think that's why I always liked him better than my mom. Is that terrible?"

"I don't think it's terrible," I told her. "But, then again, I don't know much about parents."

"They're not always what they're cracked up to be," She said. "I'm sure your parents would've been awesome. Would you have stayed in the circus if they hadn't been killed?"

"I don't know. I think I would've done a lot of things differently if they hadn't been killed," I said. "I definitely wouldn't have become a police officer."

"You wouldn't have met me," She smirked.

"I'm still trying to figure out if that's a gain or a loss," I said.

"It's not like you have a choice, now," She flipped the photo album shut and threw it on the table with the others. "Let's go find my brothers. If we're lucky they might be up for basement hockey."

* * *

"I think you should seriously consider joining the league, Dick," Tony Gordon told me.

"Please," Barbara scoffed. "He was only so good because he had me as offense."

"That and Tony's a shitty goalie," James said.

"I am not," Tony insisted. "Babs just knows all my weaknesses."

"Observe and you shall know, brother," Babs said.

"She thinks she's yoda, but she's really just a self-righteous sociopath," I said.

"Wow," Babs said. "And here I thought I only had two brothers."

"Jesus, it's already eleven?" I said, checking my phone for the first time. "I really should go. I have work in the morning."

"On the day after Christmas?" Babs asked.

"Crime doesn't take a day off," I said.

I bid my goodbyes to James and Tony and Gordon and Barbara and made my way to the front door.

"Wait," Babs called. "I think I parked behind you."

She retrieved her keys and followed me out into the cold, wrapping her cardigan around her. When we reached the driveway I remembered I'd parked in the street.

"You didn't park behind me," I told her.

"I know," She said. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to walk you out. I didn't know you had a real car."

"It's not always a good thing to be driving around in a cop car in Gotham," I said.

"Don't I know it," She said. "Where'd you get the money for two cars?"

"Borrowed it from Bruce Wayne," I winked.

"Speaking of Bruce Wayne," She said. "I'm sorry about the awkward Batman conversation. It's always been a touchy subject in our family. I think my mother's anti-Batman teachings are wearing off on the boys."

"No, it was fine," I assured her. "I had fun. It's nice to experience a real family Christmas for once. It's interesting to see you as an actual human being for once. Not just my crazy Batman-obsessed stalker."

"Is that what I was in your head?" She asked.

"Until now," I said.

"And now what am I?"

"My crazy Batman-obsessed stalker who's really good at basement hockey," I told her.

"Soon you'll have to get a stamp just to write my title on an envelope."

"Is there a reason you followed me out into the frozen tundra?" I asked. "Or did you just need someone to make your witty puns at?"

"I just wanted to make sure we were still up for the, you know, training," She said. "After last night."

"I'm still up for it if you are," I said.

"Definitely still up for it," She said. "And I don't want it to be weird and I was serious about forgetting about the whole thing. That's not some reverse psychology shit."

"You don't strike me as one of those girls to pull reverse psychology on a guy," I told her. "A clean slate it is." I held my hand out.

"See you January second," Babs said, shaking my hand.

"January second," I agreed.


	2. Part 2

Part Two:

"Fighting isn't all about defense," I said. "It's about knowing what your opponent is going to do before they do it. You wanna do more damage in the least amount of blows."

Barbara stood with her arms crossed, humoring me while I went through my instructor's speech. I'd practiced it in the mirror. A while back I'd found a room ideal for training: padding floor to ceiling on everything but one wall, which was covered in mirrors. I assumed there used to be weights and exercise equipment in the room, but that was long gone. I never thought I'd have use for it, but here we were.

"Now, you're in good shape," I told her. "But it's not enough just to be thin. You've gotta have muscle too."

"You're thin," She remarked.

"And I have the circus to thank for that," I said. "In my experience it's pretty beneficial to be thin and strong. It allows for swiftness. It's how I'm gonna train you. Now if only you could keep your mouth shut, you might actually achieve stealth."

She smirked.

"I'm assuming you know a little self- defense?" I said.

"I know enough," She shrugged.

"If it was enough we wouldn't be here," I told her. "Now hit me."

"Hit you?" She repeated. "That's really how you wanna start this training?"

"I could have you painting my fence," I suggested.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, you've already got the condescending part of Mr. Miagi down," She told me.

"If you don't hit me I won't be able to make an accurate assessment of the work that needs to be done," I sighed,

Babs just looked at me.

"Come on," I prompted. "I promise I'll go easy on you."

"Don't even think about it," She sneered.

"So hit me," I said again, "Prove to me what tough stuff you're made of."

She glared at me, angry now. That was good. She made a fist and hurtled it at my face. I caught it, so easily it was almost laughable, and then spun her around, pinning her arms to her sides. She was wearing only a sports bra so her bare back brushed against my chest, which was also bare. Maybe I would've had time to think about how much that frustrated me if she hadn't strained her arm from my grasp, trying to elbow me.

"You're gonna have to try harder than that," I said into her ear.

"We're only just getting started," She replied.

Her elbow collided with my jaw, deterring me only long enough for her to turn around and try once more to hit me. I caught both of her wrists, pinning them behind her back so we were chest to chest. She pulled against my hold, but I had her locked.

"Now what?" I asked. "Now what are you gonna do?"

"Let me go," She said.

"Would Bane let you go?" I asked.

"That's not fair," She gritted.

"I got a news flash for you, girl scout," I said. "_Fair_ means nothing to the bad guys."

"What do you want?" She asked. "You want me to admit that you were right? That I don't know how to fight? Because I think it's pretty obvious."

I released her hands, "Looks like you've got yourself an instructor then."

She punched me. I wasn't expecting that one, but apparently I'd made her a little too angry. She _was_ Jim Gordon's daughter and if I had learned anything in the few weeks I'd known her it was that she had an ego that bruised pretty easily and a temper that wouldn't be trifled with.

"Yeah," She said tersely. "Looks like I do."

* * *

The next day, she was barging through the front door- she doesn't knock anymore- a duffel in her hand and another backpack over her shoulder. I lurched up from the couch, tossing my evidence folder aside.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

"Just bringing some of my stuff," She said nonchalantly.

"Why?"

"If I'm gonna be here all the time, I might as well have a few extra things to change into," She replied.

"I'm sorry, when did I agree to let you move in?" I asked.

"I'm not moving in," She said. "Just being logical. I'm sure your training isn't all physical stuff and as much as you'd love to see me running around in a sports bra all the time, I'd like to have some normal clothes too. And I can't very well go back to my dorm smelling like I ran a marathon, can I?"

"I don't know about this, Babs." I said.

"Relax, Dick," She said. "I've spent the night here before. I can restrain myself from jumping your bones, if thats what you're worried about. Clean slate remember?"

"That's not what it is, Babs," I said. "What are you gonna tell your father?"

"My father?" She asked. "Why would I have to tell him anything?"

"Don't you think he's gonna notice?"

"No," She said. "He doesn't usually stop by my dorm and if he does he calls."

"You don't have a roommate?"

Babs shrugged, "She's used to me being gone overnight. Here, take this."

I took the duffel she offered me and followed her up the stairs, "You're a little slut aren't you?"

"Why? Because guys can go out and get drunk and have sex, but girls can't?"

"Touché," I admitted.

"The good lord gave me a big brain and a nice ass," She said. "It'd be a shame not to use 'em."

"So you didn't even think to _ask _me when you decided to move your stuff into my house?" I asked.

"Well, technically it's not _your house_," She corrected. "And I figured, after a year, you'd be a little tired of being alone."

"I've been alone longer than a year," I said.

"Well then I came along just in time,"

"I'm actually still on the fence about deciding to train you," I told her.

"There's no turning back now," She warned. "You're in it for the long haul, baby."

"I actually have something for you," I said, setting her bag down on the bed in her room.

"Ooh, presents?" Babs asked.

"Don't get too excited," I said. "I can't guarantee you'll like it."

I took her down to the kitchen, where I'd left my list and handed it to her.

"Apples, protein, sit ups- what the hell is this?" She asked, reading over the list.

"This," I said. "Is your new diet and exercise plan."

Her red eyebrows shot up, "Excuse me?"

"You said you wanted me to train you," I said. "And in order for me to train you I need you in shape."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're not supposed to call girls fat?" Babs asked, but she didn't sound that upset.

"I didn't say fat," I told her. "Just… squishy."

"I'm not sure that's better,"

"Look, I can't be watching you every second of the day," I told her. "And the only way I'm ever gonna let you out there is if you make the effort."

"You mean you're not going to quit your job and spend every waking moment with me, teaching me the ways of stealth and precision?" She asked, sarcastically.

"Believe it or not," I said. "I actually have a life outside of you."

She quirked an eyebrow at the innuendo, but let it slide, "No, you don't. If my stalking has proved anything it's that you are about as outgoing as a hermit crab. You don't even have a girlfriend."

"After dealing with you, I'm just about ready to give up women entirely," I said. "Now, why don't you have an apple…" I handed her an apple. "and go to the gym or something."

"I'm beginning to see why you don't have a girlfriend," She said, taking a bite out of the apple. "I'll be back later. Don't be too boring without me."

* * *

I'll say one thing for Babs, she was a fast learner and despite her being completely uncooperative in every other aspect of life, she took my instruction without too much question. She had a completely incorruptible drive for this, and Gordons weren't known for sitting back and doing nothing, so I hadn't expected any less.

Mostly, we trained at night. Babs had class and whatever else Barbara Gordons do on regular days and I had duty, but since Jim Gordon knew me and my past and my situation, I didn't have what you would call regular work hours. Basically, I did what I wanted and they called me in when something catastrophic happened. Truthfully, I was somewhat glad to be training Barbara. My life had been pretty dull since Bane and it was nice to have someone to talk to that I didn't have to lie to.

I started mainly with core strengthening and muscle building, because she had to have the _capability_ to fight before I just sprung it on her. She was willing to learn and already had basic training so it wasn't all work. Barbara Gordon and her big mouth and unprecedented nature proved to be more intriguing than infuriating, which I wouldn't have expected. Maybe it was just because I knew that I had to put up with her so I found something to like, or maybe I did actually like her. I didn't know quite what to think and, for the first time in my life, that was okay.

All at once, Barbara Gordon had become this constant in my life. Constant _what _was the question because she couldn't be defined by one category alone. There was a part of me that wanted to figure her out, to open her up and figure out what made her tick, what made her think the way she did. Then there was a complete other part of me that wanted to run away and forget I'd ever met her. She was equally as interesting as she was complicated and I wasn't sure what exactly I was supposed to do with her, but in the end, it turned out I didn't have to do anything because she would continue on being regardless of the world or people around her. It seemed the world was adapting to her, rather than her adapting to it.

She ate mat pretty hard the first few weeks of training, going home with bruises the size of oranges and strained muscles. She kept up with it though, eating right and working out when I wasn't training her. She possessed a certain determination that I had only seen a few times before and I respected that. Not to mention that despite the pain and frustration that came with perseverance she never once complained. I respected that, too.

One night in particular I walked in on her in an ice bath.

"Relaxing," I remarked.

She huffed out a laugh, breathing heavily from the temperature, "Care to join me?"

"I would," I said. "But I like my balls attached, thanks."

"Your loss," She said.

"You planning on going back to your dorm tonight?" I asked.

"I don't know," She said. "I've still gotta take a shower and I have my laptop here, so probably not. Why? You need me out of here?"

"Yeah, I was planning on bringing a hot date back so we could have rough sex all over the house," I said sarcastically. "And I wouldn't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

Babs snorted, "When pigs fly."

"I actually don't have to go in tomorrow," I said. "So if you want we could do some extra training."

"Ugh," She sighed. "I think I've had enough training for the week. And I've got midterms at the end of the week so I'm thinking we should take a breather."

"I've finally worn out the great Barbara Gordon," I said. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day."

"In your dreams, boy wonder," She said. "I could go all night. I just wouldn't want to hurt that pretty face. Here, help me up."

She held out her arms and I reached over the tub to grab her hands and I could feel the cold from the ice as she stood up. Babs stepped out of the tub shivering even though she was wearing a sports bra and tiny shorts. I could see the goosebumps blossoming all over her arms and legs and stomach. She turned to grab her towel and I caught sight of a huge black and blue bruise taking up half her back.

"Jesus, Babs," I said. "Are you okay?"

"What?" She asked.

"The continent sized bruise on your back," I said.

"Oh, yeah," She looked over her shoulder, stretching her back a little. "It's not too bad."

"That looks really bad," I said.

"Occupational hazard," She shrugged.

I watched in cautious silence as she continued to dry herself off, seeing how the bruise moved with her muscles and I couldn't imagine that it didn't hurt. The ice bath probably helped, but it covered half her back and there wasn't enough ice in the world to stop that from hurting. I tried to think of what move had caused it, which time she hit the floor that it caused something so bad. It could've been any number of exercises and for the first time I felt a little guilty about working her so hard.

"Look, Babs," I said. "If I'm ever too hard on you, you can tell me. I won't think you're weak or anything."

"Dick, come on," She said. "I'm fine. And I _need _you to be hard on me. I'm not gonna get anywhere by you holding back."

"I'm just saying, I don't wanna push you past your limits," I said.

"We can't afford to have limits in our line of work, Dick," She said. "Do you think Bane or the Joker would've held back with me?"

"No,"

"Then you shouldn't either," She said. "Contrary to popular belief ignorance is not bliss and in my case it could actually get me killed. So stop freaking out about a bruise and go arrest some purse snatcher or something."

I smiled back at her, "Tough as nails, aren't you?"

"Tough as nails," She replied. "Now get out. I have to take a shower and you are _not _joining me for that."

* * *

"A bomb strategically placed in Gotham National Bank's basement detonated tonight at 7:26 diverting any and all attempts for law enforcement to enter the vault where an unknown assailant emptied it of all its precious jewels and gold. According to our sources there were a number of police officers and a SWAT team already in the bank, having received an anonymous tip of the bomb just hours before. Unfortunately none of the bomb squad or the officers present at the scene were able to locate the bomb and the attack was executed anyway. There is no exact number of casualties or injuries at this time, but rest assured Gotham's finest are doing everything they can to salvage anything and anyone from the wreckage and find the offender and bring him to justice."

I was still in my suit, standing in Wayne Manor's living room, watching the newscast. It had been a long six hours at the bomb site picking through the rubble and we had no leads. The commissioner and a number of officers were at the scene as soon as they'd gotten the tip, I wasn't invited probably because I had a reputation for being hotheaded and impulsive in such situations. It was true, but being left out made me all the more hotheaded and impulsive.

The best I could figure it was the same jewel thieves from the museum, and I suspected that they had called in the tip as well. I had to give them props for pulling such a ballsy move. Blowing up a bank full of police officers wasn't an act committed by amateurs and if they had done this I was certain that they would strike again.

The door downstairs slammed and I instinctively reached for my gun.

"Dick!"

I relaxed when I heard Barbara's voice and turned the television off. She burst into the room, coat flying, her eyes wide and tears streaming down her face.

"Did you hear? Were you there?" She demanded, frantically grabbing at my jacket.

I gripped her shoulders, steadying her shaking body, "Yes, I was there. What's wrong?"

"Did you see my father?"

"No, he was gone by the time I got there," I told her. "Jesus, Babs. _What's wrong_?"

"He was there- during the explosion," She said. "And I don't know where he is now and he's not answering his phone and neither is my mom and nobody at the precinct will tell me anything and-"

"Hey, just calm down," I wiped her face free of tears and pulled her over to the couch. "Just breathe. I'm sure your father's fine."

"I just- I just don't know," She said. "If I knew it would- well it would still suck, but I'd _know_, you know? And when I went to the- to the hospital it was a freaking zoo and I couldn't find him or anyone to help me and I didn't know what to do so I-I came here. I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have anything to be sorry about," I said, swiping another tear from her cheek. "It's fine. It's not safe out there anyway, whoever did this is probably still running around. You did the right thing, okay?"

I'll admit, I was freaking out too. The police commissioner MIA? That was grounds for a freak out, but Babs was already in pieces so I figured one of us had to hold it together. It was easy to be strong around her.

"God, Dick," She sighed. "I just can't do it again. I can't- _wait_ by his hospital bed while he withers away. I can't."

"Listen to me," I took her face in my hands. "He's gonna be fine. He was fine last time and he'll be fine this time. He's a tough guy. You've gotta give him more credit than this. Just give it a little time to settle down and then you'll know, okay?"

She burst into tears again, burying her face in my neck. I wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. She was still wearing her wool coat and I could feel the cold clamminess of her cheek from the tears and the cold outdoors as it pressed against me. It was such a weird thing, seeing Barbara Gordon vulnerable like this. It wasn't that I thought she was weak, but it surprised me that there wasn't an extreme she couldn't reach.

After a few moments she calmed down, but stayed pressed against me, one hand on my thigh and the other on hers, clutching her phone like a lifeline. I really didn't have an idea of what to do or say, but Babs didn't seem to require anything other than my presence so we stayed as we were.

I turned the TV back on, the newscast had ended, which was nice. I didn't know how Babs would've reacted to that. I didn't change the channel from the late-night talk show, but neither of us were watching it anyway. I reached up to pull her hair off her sticky cheek and brought it back behind her shoulder.

"Mmm, that feels nice," She murmured.

So I did it again, combing my fingers through her hair at her temple and following it all the way down to the middle of her back. Just a few minutes of that and her breathing was slowing and she relaxed further against me. I didn't blame her. I was exhausted as well and it was almost two in the morning.

Wayne Manor was quiet and, so it seemed, was the city around it. The whole environment seemed to be in awe of the whole situation. Me? I was mainly in awe of Babs herself, being so open with me. She had some undying trust of me, secured deeply inside her that refused to die or be diffused by anything. There was a strange amount of pressure that came with that and I felt like I owed her something. I felt like I had to live up to her expectations of me, or at least try.

The sudden ringing of Babs' cell phone snapped me out of my almost-sleep and she jumped out from under my arm to answer it, "Mom? No, I'm fine. Where are you? Where's dad? Oh, my God. Thank God."

At that I assumed the commissioner was okay and a bit of my apprehension fell away. Still, I didn't know what condition he was in and it could be some time before we had any solutions.

"Yes, mom," Babs said, exasperated. "I'm fine. I'm…" She looked over at me and held my gaze for a moment. "With Dick. But I'm leaving now. I'll be there as soon as I- No. Mom. I'm not just gonna _sit _here. He's my father! I should be there. Mom, that's not fair and you know it. Jesus. Fine. Fine! But I will be there first thing in the morning. Yes. I know. Bye."

She ended the call and turned back to me, "He's fine. Some bumps and bruises and a concussion. But he's fine. Visiting hours are over, but my mom's staying there tonight and I'm gonna go in the morning, but I guess, for now, I'm stuck."

She sat down at the window seat with the last word, shrugging out of her coat. A beat later she dropped her face into her hand as more tears spilled over.

I lurched from the couch, kneeling down in front of her, "Come on, Babs." I said. "He's fine."

"But he so easily couldn't have been," She said. "There's so many ways this could've gone wrong. So many ways he could've died."

"But he _didn't, _Babs," I reminded her. "That's the point. He didn't die."

"How many times can he do this?" I said. "How many times can he cheat death?"

"It's his job, Babs," I said. "You know the risks."

"He's done enough," She said. "He's just like the Batman. He's just gonna keep giving and giving and giving until he dies and I can't just let him do that."

"Keep in mind that this is what you're asking me to do," I said.

"You're different," She said. "You'll know when to stop. And it's always the reluctant hero that's perfect for the job. That's why you have to talk to him."

"Talk to him?" I repeated. "Why?"

"You have to get him to stop," She said. "Talk some sense into him. He listens to you."

"It doesn't matter who he's talking to, Babs," I said. "Because he's not gonna listen to anyone. You know your father. He's gonna do this until he dies and that's perfectly fine. That's what he wants."

"It's not fine!" She shouted, shooting to her feet. "You're telling me my father's gonna put himself in danger he doesn't need to be in and I'm just supposed to accept that? You're even crazier than I thought."

I stood up with her, "And if someone told _you_ to stop because it would kill you you'd just drop it?"

"That's different," She said through clenched teeth.

"Why? Because his life matters and yours doesn't?" I shot back.

She tightened her jaw, keeping silent. I'd won, but it'd take the jaws of life to get her to admit it.

"That's what I thought," I said. "You gotta let him do what he thinks is right even if you don't agree with it."

She scoffed.

"Hey, look at me," I turned her face to look at mine. "He's gonna be fine. The universe doesn't let people like your dad just die. And he sure as hell isn't going down without a fight."

"What am I supposed to do without him?"

"You'll be fine," I wrapped an arm around her, reaching around to wipe more tears from her face. "And besides, now you've got me."

"Oh, that's reassuring," She half chuckled, leaning into my side.

* * *

"Dick," I heard. "Dick, come on. Wake up!"

Part of me wanted to ignore it, wanted it to go away so I could go back to sleep, but another annoying part of me registered the voice as Barbara's and pulled me awake.

"Hmm?" I mumbled.

"Dick, get up," She said.

I rolled over, squinting at her in the darkness, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," She said. "I think the power's out."

"You _think?"_

"None of the light switches are working," She said. "And it took me freaking forever to find your room and I think I broke a priceless vase of some sort."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Like three AM," She said. "I don't really know. I left my phone in my room. Will you _get up_?"

"I'm up, Jesus," I grumbled throwing back the covers.

At first Babs was just a silhouette illuminated by the faint moonlight peeking in through my blinds, but eventually my eyes adjusted and I walked over to her. She was wide-eyed and covered in goosebumps, wearing a small blue nightgown.

"What are you wearing?"

"Believe it or not, I sometimes sleep in other things besides your t shirts," She said.

"Hmm," I reached over and flipped the switch a few times. "Well, looks like you were right. Let's go downstairs."

She followed me through the corridors, her bare legs catching in the moonlight. She didn't catch me staring, though, because she was too busy trying not to trip down the stairs. Nearly a month here and she still didn't know a damn thing about navigating the manor. I decided not to help her.

We reached the kitchen and those lights did jack as well and Babs stood there, arms crossed, like I was supposed to do something.

"Doesn't Bruce Wayne have, like, his own power source or something?" She asked.

"Maybe _Bruce Wayne_ did when _Bruce Wayne_ lived here," I replied.

"Do you think it has anything to do with the bombing?" She asked.

I looked over at her and noticed the dark rings under her eyes, which were still puffy. I figured there was a reason she was awake to discover the power was out.

"I don't think so," I told her. "If it were it probably would've happened right after the bomb. It's probably just a power outage. I'll call the precinct and find out."

Babs nodded appreciatively. Never before had I thought I'd be any good at consoling anyone. Nobody was ever that consoling to me, except right after my parents died. That faded quickly though, and was replaced by the ridicule and hostility of the boys' home. I guess I just didn't want anyone to feel like I did and Gordon wasn't dead, so that made it easier.

"Gotham Police Department, 108th precinct, how may I help you?" Jason Todd said through the phone.

"Jason, it's Dick," I said.

"What in God's name are you doing up, Grayson?" He asked. "Weren't you at the bank for, like, ten hours?"

"Six," I corrected. "And I'm calling about this power outage. Any relation to the bombing?"

"Nope, they've got that pretty much cleaned up," He told me. "It was just some drunk idiot that ran into the power lines. Split his damn car in half, killed him instantly. They're working to get it fixed as soon as possible. We've been getting calls left and right about it."

"How is it going at the bank?" I cast a sideways glance at Barbara. I could she was trying to look uninterested and not eavesdrop, but she wanted to know.

"Still no evidence," Jason said. "Six dead, I don't know how many injured. One SWAT guy was killed, new guy too. We sent Martinez out to tell his family. Service is next week, but no ones gonna be happy until we find out who did it. Gordon would probably want you in tomorrow, but given the circumstances Foley's in charge and I doubt he'll be calling you in unless it's a last resort, so you can just relax until we get something more."

"That's reassuring," I deadpanned. "Anyway, I was just calling about the power. How long do you think it'll take to be fixed? It's gonna start getting pretty cold here in a about an hour if people don't get their heat back."

"I don't know," Jason. "Maybe an hour, maybe more. It only took the drunk guy three seconds to fuck it all up. Tonight's the night from hell, Dick, let me tell you."

"I hear you," I said. "Call me if I can do anything."

"Will do, Dick. Get some sleep."

I set my phone down on the counter and looked up to see Barbara looking at me expectantly.

"It's fine," I said. "Drunk driver ran into the power lines. Should be fixed soon."

Babs nodded, but didn't look any more relaxed. I didn't know what it was about a power outage that had her so on edge.

"Afraid of the dark?" I teased.

She shrugged, "Irrational fear."

That night was perhaps the most surreal night I ever had with Barbara Gordon (Yes, counting the night we slept together). It was so out of character for her to be so open about her fears and vulnerabilities and usually she tried so hard to hold up her made-of-stone front. I could see the truth regardless, at least I thought I could, but that night she was so exposed. It made me slightly uncomfortable and cautious like if I said just one wrong word or touched her too roughly she'd break.

"I was gonna go check on the boys," I said, pointing towards the other side of the house with my thumb. "Wanna come."

"Won't that be a little weird?" She asked. "You popping up with a half naked girl?"

"Nah," I said, which was a lie. Of course it'd be weird. "If I showed up with a half naked girl they'd worship me even more than they usually do. You'd be doing me a favor."

I was trying to make her feel better, without being obvious, but I suspected that she knew what I was doing anyway. She didn't call me on it, which was the unusual thing, but we both went with it, ignoring the elephant in the room.

I reached over to the kitchen drawer, pulling out a flashlight, which I gave to Barbara and my keys to the adjoining door.

"You lock them out?" Babs asked.

"I can't have them walking in and finding out Bruce Wayne's secret identity, now can I?" I replied. "Besides I do _a lot_ of unbecoming things in here. Wouldn't want to scar the boys further than they already are."

* * *

The lock always stuck in the door between mine and the boys' half of the house. I had to practically launch my whole body at it to get it to open. When they built the wall separating the two sides they didn't do it quite to the standard of the rest of the manor.

Babs and I burst inside to a corridor lined with doors with white boards and posters and other paraphernalia of the like covering their surfaces. This was where the older boys stayed. Because of Bruce Wayne's will we now had enough money to support boys from ages as young as six months to 18 years.

In my opinion there were two types of boys that lived in these kinds of homes. The first, and most popular, was the bitter and tough. The ones who were angry at the world and by default everyone in it. The second kind was the quiet and sad, the ones that kept to themselves and stayed out of the fights and away from the angry ones. I didn't like to admit it but I was the first kind for most of my time at the home. The circus was teaching me how to be strong and wise, but when my parents died those lessons were cut short and I had to adapt to a whole new lifestyle.

The boys at the home figured out as soon as they could that I was a carne and proceeded to use that against me. Through that I learned how to be strong and resilient. I had to survive and in order to do that I had to toughen up, learn to fight, learn to roll with the punches and detach myself from emotion because emotion was weakness in the home. It took me longer than I like to admit but eventually I transformed from the first kind to the second kind. I had the best of the both worlds, it would seem. I started to remember what the circus had been trying to teach me and I started to combine that with what I'd learned at the home.

Boys' homes are a little miraculous that way. Everyone goes through a transformation like mine. Most from quiet to angry and some from angry to quiet. I guess I went from quiet to angry and then to some happy medium. Bruce Wayne played a huge part in that. I saw him, handsome, rich, successful, orphaned and I wanted that. I didn't want to end up in jail like too many of my orphan constituents. I think Bruce Wayne went through life thinking that he had to be the Batman to change things, to leave a mark, but he was wrong. He made the impression of a lifetime on me, and probably many others, Barbara Gordon included, by just being who he was. I don't think he realized that it's the little things you do that make the biggest impact on the world.

"Freeze, damn it!" A voice called from the darkness.

I immediately held my hands up in truce and Babs shone the flashlight towards the voice, where I saw Tim Drake with a baseball bat poised for smacking, standing in his doorway.

"Jesus, Tim," I said. "Put the bat down."

He lowered the weapon, "What the fuck are you doing, Dick? It's the middle of the night."

"The power's out," I told him. "What did I tell you about using that kind of language?"

Tim was 17, muscled from being on the Gotham High wrestling team and had lived in boys' homes since he was five and found wandering, filthy and alone through the streets of Gotham. He was one of the boys I had bonded with the most since the transformation of Wayne Manor into the orphanage. He wasn't exactly a first or second kind. He fluctuated between the two, but he had a genuinely good heart. He was the one I expected the most to turn out like me. Not that I was exactly a role model, but he could turn out worse.

"I'm _this_ close to aging out," Tim told me. "I don't have to listen to a damn thing you say." He shouldered the bat and looked past me to Babs standing awkwardly with the flashlight. A sly grin came over his face, "Who's your… friend?"

"Don't even think about it," I warned. "You ain't got a chance."

"I don't know," Tim said, looking her up and down. "Maybe we should let her decide, eh baby?"

"Shouldn't you be playing with blocks or something?" Barbara replied dryly.

"Ooh, she's a feisty one," Tim mused. "I like that."

"Alright enough," I said. "Where's Nancy?"

"In her room," Tim said. "Why don't you go find her and I'll keep your little redhead company."

"Nice try," I slid an arm around Babs waist and steered her in front of me. "Go back to bed, Tim."

"At least now I know I'll have good dreams!" He called after us.

Babs looked over at me, smiling bemusedly.

"Told you," I said.

"Nice to know I can still 'do it' for high school boys," She said.

"I'm pretty sure you 'do it' for older guys too," I told her.

* * *

Nancy's room was at the end of the hall. She was the resident adult for the 14-18 year old boys. They had their own choice nicknames for her, but I preferred warden or keeper. She was in her mid-fifties, brown hair that a few gray streaks had snuck into. She wasn't the biggest person and she had a kind face and nature, but God be with you if you crossed her. She could go from respectable nun to angry drill sergeant in 2.5 seconds. I interacted with her the most out of the four wardens in the home because I seemed to bond more with the older boys. I had some idea that I could whip them into shape before they were thrust into the world.

"No one on the other side of that door is gonna hit on me, are they?" Babs asked as I knocked softly on Nancy's door.

"I don't think so," I said. "But that dress might be enough for people to reassess their sexual orientation."

"Yeah, that makes me feel better," Babs muttered.

Nancy finally came to the door, wrapped in a robe, with droopy, ringed eyes. I felt kind of bad for waking her.

"Dick," She said. "What are you doing here at this hour."

"I came about the power," I said. "It's out, you know."

"Yeah, I just got off the phone with the power company," She rolled her eyes. "'We'll have it fixed as soon as we can ma'am.' That could mean anything from an hour to three days for all I know."

"Jason down at the precinct said it should just be a few hours," I reassured her. "But I wanted to warn you in case it takes longer and the cold starts setting in."

"I appreciate it," Nancy said. "I don't think anyone really noticed. Most of them are just sleeping."

"Not Tim," I said. "He came at us with a bat, nearly scared the skin off Barbara here."

"He did not," Babs protested, swatting my arm.

"Well, hi," Nancy said, shaking Barbara's hand. "I'm sorry we're meeting like this, but nevertheless it's always nice to meet any of Dick's- ahem- friends."

"Barbara Gordon." Babs replied.

"Gordon," Nancy repeated. "Any relation to-"

"The police commissioner, yeah," Babs said it like she'd said it a thousand times." He's my dad."

"Wow, that must be interesting," Nancy said.

"Oh, yes. Very," Babs said. "Scary sometimes, but cool too. Plus I get to hang out with fun people like Dick."

"We certainly appreciate everything he does for us," Nancy said.

"Oh, yeah?" Babs asked. "Like what?"

"Like check on us during power outages and warn us of any potential danger lurking about. The younger boys really get a kick out of his policeman stories."

"I have to edit out the gory parts," I offered.

"They look up to you," Nancy told me. "Calvin says he wants to be a cop now. But you know, last week he wanted to be a fireman, so we can't give Dick all the credit."

"I think I at least played a small part," I said.

"The boys in this house would be lucky to end up like you, Dick," Nancy said.

"As long as none of them think they're gonna live on my side of the house," I said.

"They're still convinced that there's some secret passageway leading to your side," Nancy told me. "Tommy's organized a whole troop of them and they're whole goal is to find out what's over there. I don't know what they expect. A whole arsenal of supercomputers or something."

"Wild imaginations, these kids," I said casually.

"Well, it was nice to meet you Barbara, even if we are in our pajamas," Nancy said. "But it's nearly four in the morning and I'm going back to bed before these heathens have to be up."

"Nice to see you, Nancy," I said. "Let me know if you have any problems. I don't think the power should be out long though."

"Who knows in this town," Nancy shook her head and disappeared back in her room.

"God, could she _be _more in love with you?" Babs chuckled.

"What?" I said. "Nancy's not in love with me."

"Oh, please," Babs started leading the way back down the hallway. "'He does so much for us' 'All the boys look up to you.' She totally wants in your pants."

"Oh, shut up," I said lightly. "I'm pretty sure she thinks _you're _getting in my pants what with your practical porn star getup."

Babs looked down at her dress, "This is _not_ a porn star getup. And how do you know what porn stars wear anyway?"

"I don't," I said. "But I do know that respectable girls don't wear nightgowns that barely cover their ass."

"Well, if _certain people _learned to keep their eyes forward they wouldn't notice the amount of my ass that is or isn't showing," She said. "And I never claimed to be a respectable girl."

* * *

We were back in Bruce Wayne's kitchen, surrounded by candles and I was holding back laughter at the cliche of it all. I was sure that one of us was gonna end up jumping the other and it'd be just like Christmas Eve all over again. I was also sure that that was one of the worst things that could happen.

Babs was vulnerable and going through a traumatic situation and sex would just make it worse, but her legs were crossed and I could see a substantial amount of her toned thighs and it seemed the more I learned about her the more attracted to her I was. I was torn between wanting to console her and wanting her legs wrapped around me.

"Are you looking at my legs?" She asked accusingly, but she knew the answer.

"Just thought I'd establish the elephant in the room," I said.

"There you go calling me fat again," She teased.

"I'd never call you fat," I said. "Especially not in that dress."

"Oh, really?" She lifted her leg, running her foot up my thigh and pressing her cold toes against my hipbone. I liked to think that she was checking me out with no shirt just as much as I was checking her out with no pants.

"It's actually kind of unfortunate that I have to tighten you up," I said, running my hand up the side of her calf, feeling the blooming muscle. "I liked that you were soft."

"I thought you were too smashed to remember anything about that night," She was leaning on the counter now, closer to me.

"Some things you just can't block out," My hand reached the hem of her nightgown, dipping under just a little. "And you are one of the loudest memories I have."

"Mmm, mission accomplished," She bit her lip and brushed her hair all over to one side. I was a sucker for the hair thing.

There was one stand hanging over her eye and I reached out to tuck it back with the others. Our faces were inches apart and her green eyes were staring into mine, beckoning me. I knew I shouldn't, but I was going to anyway. Of course I'd been attracted to her, but this _hunger_ for her came all at once, surprising even me. I _needed _to feel those pouty lips against mine.

My hand trailed down the side of her face, tipping her face back and I was just leaning down to kiss her when the blinding light of the kitchen fluorescents jerked us apart. We both looked up at the lights then back and each other and I still wanted to kiss her, but the moment was gone.

Babs awkwardly removed her calf from my leg and stood up, "It seems a little weird to be going back to sleep right when lights come on." She chuckled nervously.

"If we're gonna get to the hospital by visiting hours we'll need at least _some_ sleep," I replied.

We had silently agreed that we hadn't been flirting five seconds ago and we hadn't started a chain of events that would end with me pressing her into my mattress. I thought it was for the best, but I still would've wanted the lights to stay off for maybe another minute. Maybe by then we'd be past caring about the lighting and be on our way to my bedroom.

* * *

Babs woke me up again the next morning, fully dressed this time, and prompting me to get ready for the hospital. I thought me going would cause more harm than good and Gordon actually listening to Barbara's pleas for him to tone it down were about as likely as a million dollars falling out of the sky, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.

Things had apparently calmed down at the hospital since the night before and Babs was able to go right up to a desk and get the room number he was staying in. A flash of my badge and I was going with her and she practically ran to the room. When she flung the door open her mom sitting in a chair beside the bed in which the commissioner resided.

I lingered in the door as Babs rushed forward and rushed out the obligatory reassuring questions. Was he okay, did anything hurt, how could he go into a bank lobby when there was a bomb threat. Barbara senior excused herself to get a cup of coffee, eyeing me suspiciously as she passed me in the doorway.

"I'm fine, Babs," Gordon assured his daughter. "Just some burns on my arm and a few cracked ribs. Nothing serious."

"'Nothing serious!'" Babs repeated. "Dad, you could've been killed."

"But I wasn't," He said.

"But you could've been," Babs repeated. "So stop acting like its no big deal that you're sitting in a hospital bed _again._"

"You're overreacting, sweetie," He told her. "There are so many people worse off than me."

"And there are even more better off," She said. "You can't keep doing this. Sooner or later your luck is gonna run out."

"Barbara, just relax," His voice was suddenly stern, like Babs was a little girl. "I'm fine and in just a few weeks I'll be back to normal and we can forget this ever happened."

"Yeah, and then you'll be off doing the next life-threatening thing," She said. "How do you expect me to react to this? 'Oh, my father's just got his arm blown off, same old, same old?' No. That's not going to happen."

"This is my job, Barbara," He reminded her. "And it's my choice. I'm the parent here, so just pipe down. I see you've brought Dick with you."

"We had a mutual concern," I said. "Everyone down at the precinct is going nuts without you there."

"If I could leave now, I would," Gordon said. "But the damn nurses say I'll need at least one more day before I can be discharged."

"Foley's got it under control the best he can," I said.

"Oh, I bet that's going over well," He chuckled. "Say, Babs, why don't you go join your mother and let me and Dick have a little chat here. Official police business, sweetie, you understand."

Babs rolled her eyes, but stood up to leave anyway, patting her father's good hand as she did. When she turned to me she was giving me an expectant look and I knew I had to at least try, but it wasn't going to do anything. She ran her hand over my shoulder as she left, and I wanted to reach over and touch her back.

"Well, this is familiar," I said, as I took the chair next to the bed.

Gordon chuckled, "Occupational hazard."

"Babs is really upset about this," I said. "She talked my ear off all the way up here, she wants me to convince to- I don't know- retire I guess."

"That sounds like her," He sighed. "She respects what I do, but I think she'd rather I was just watching instead of in the action. She thought me taking the job as commissioner would be more barking orders than shooting guns."

"She worries about you," I said. "I think she feels like she has to, since she's the only one around."

"Yeah, I get where she's coming from, but she doesn't have to protect me," He said. "She's always been attached to me. Granted, she understands better than Barbara or James or Tony, but she'd still rather I be an accountant."

"I don't think she's seen you in action enough to appreciate what you have to offer for us."

"Speaking of that," He said. "My present condition included, last night was really bad, and I'm just gonna take a wild guess and say they have no leads."

"None," I said.

"That's just what I thought," He said. "I'll need to see the files to form an informed conclusion, but I'm gonna tell you this because I know I can trust you. The bombing and the museum robbery are connected."


	3. Part 3

Part Three:

Gordon's words haunted me. I had suspected the exact same thing, but now it was real. Now it wasn't just a haunting thought. It was terrifying. We were right back where we were eight years ago, minus the Batman. The worst part was Babs was right. There would never be peace in Gotham and we wouldn't survive alone. I'd been training her and I was pretty capable myself, but I felt helpless. I wasn't Batman. That sentence hadn't felt real until now. It hadn't mattered because there wasn't a need for him.

Everything was different. I didn't tell Babs what her father had told me. It was probably a bad idea, but I wasn't sure how I felt about it myself and I didn't have the first clue what to do about it. Also I didn't really want to admit to her that she was right. It was hard.

Barbara Gordon was living with me. This bothered me, but not in the way that it should've. She was an annoying nineteen-year-old girl who didn't listen to a word I said. And now she was walking around my house (it was mine now, it'd been a year) in a towel with wet hair, dripping all over the floor and where I should've been pissed off that she was intruding on my living space I really just wanted to rip the towel from her body and take her against the wall.

It was completely wrong. Everything about our situation. She pops up on my doorstep looking for the Batman and then worms her way into my life, then my pants, and now I couldn't shake her. But the really wrong part was that I didn't _want_ to shake her. I liked her. She was my boss's daughter, she was five years younger, she was obsessed with the Batman and, by extension, me, she had me wrapped right around her finger and I liked her.

Her laptop and more clothes and her schoolbooks joined her and infiltrated my kitchen table. The bathroom and the hallway forever smelled like her perfume and shampoo, we ate breakfast together, trained at night and then, against my wishes, went our separate ways to bed. It was like she was my girlfriend, but we weren't having sex. And I knew it wasn't fair to expect anything out of her just because I was teaching her to be a vigilante, but I wanted her and there didn't seem to be a minute we were together that we were flirting in some way.

I knew we agreed to forget about the night we slept together and I pretended that I did. But I didn't. It was almost like the first time I'd met her all over again. My head was constantly filled with her and, though I thought it was impossible, even more so than before. I thought that the more I learned about her and the ore time I spent with her, the more I'd understand her, but that just presented more unpredictable things about her.

The funny part was I was content the way things were. I mean if it turned out she did want to fuck me there would be no objections, but since she didn't I was fine just being a piece of furniture in her life. It was nice to have someone to talk to and crack jokes at and just _be_ with. I never thought there'd be anyone who I'd never want to be away from. I grew up alone and now I couldn't imagine not having her there. Maybe that was what I liked most about her.

* * *

I wasn't fooling anyone. I was different, I knew that. I guess I didn't expect everyone else to notice. It was a pretty busy week at the precinct after the bombing and while everyone else was grim and business I was the life of the party, a role I had rarely played before.

Gordon was out for a week and a half, which just so happened to be two and a half weeks shorter than the doctors and Barbara tried to keep him out. Everyone knew the reality of it. He was the commissioner and we were in a crisis. We needed him.

With Gordon back, though, I wasn't alone. It might not have seemed like much, but without him there was no one else to believe my crazy theory. He didn't tell anyone, but he secretly started organizing teams to connect the two robberies while still making it seem like he thought they were completely separate. It was genius the way he worked. A lot of the other cops thought he was crazy since he had been scheduled to be released just before Bane, but now he had earned his place and he wouldn't be run out. Not while I was still here.

"What are you smiling about, Grayson?" Foley demanded of me.

I shrugged, "It's a new day, the sun is shining, the commissioner's back. What's not to smile about?"

"How about the thirteen injured officers and the dead SWAT member?" Foley suggested.

"Could've been worse," I said.

"Could've been better,"

"Lay off, lieutenant," Jason Todd interjected. "Dick's just all chipper because he's got himself a new squeeze."

"Just where do you get these crazy notions anyway Todd?" I asked.

"The way I see it there's only two reasons a man is smiling in a crisis," Jason said. "Either he's got himself a girl or he's got himself a guy."

I laughed, "I assure you, Todd, I have neither a girl or a guy. This is why I became a cop; to help people. Solve mysteries."

"I don't care what you got, Grayson," Foley said. "There's only one thing you should get and that's your head in the game."

"Head's in the game, sir," I assured him.

Foley snorted as he walked away, but I wasn't bothered by it. Jason snickered next to me and then dropped a square piece of card stock on top of my files. I glanced down at it.

"Policeman's ball?" I asked.

"It's hardly a surprise," Jason said. "It's the same time every year."

"I thought it would've been cancelled."

"Almost was," He said. "But no one wanted to shuck our one and possibly only chance to see who won the heart of Dick Grayson."

"I've told you before, Jason," I said. "No one's won my heart."

"Well, maybe you should let someone," He suggested. "Ball's in a week."

* * *

I didn't go to college. Just the police academy. But Gotham University was an establishment everyone was used to. It was the oldest building in Gotham, almost the largest if not for Wayne Enterprises, but it was a thousand times more intimidating than Bruce Wayne's former company. Still I walked in, badge at the ready, straight to the front desk where I asked for Barbara.

"Oh, Babs," The receptionist said. "I know her. She's down in the library."

"Library?" I asked.

"On-campus job," She told me. "She's not in any trouble is she?"

"Not yet," I said.

Finding the library turned out to be harder than I expected, they had added on to it since it had first been built. The corridors were both new and old at the same time and this pattern seemed to be consistent throughout. The library, however, was ancient. High walls, brass, rounded ceilings, archways and shelves upon shelves of books.

"I'm looking for Barbara Gordon," I said, flashing my badge.

The girl behind the desk froze. She was college age, maybe younger than Babs. This was the reaction I was used to when people saw me. The urge to seem innocent and casual even if they had done nothing wrong overtook people and made them seem all the more guilty and conspicuous.

"Commissioner's daughter?" I tried when the girl didn't respond. "Barbara Gordon?"

"Um…" The girl said.

"Relax, Steph," Babs voice alleged. "He's a friend of my dads."

Both of us turned to see Babs walking up to set a stack of books onto the counter. Her red hair was pulled up into a bun and she wore a cream colored sweater and a red pencil skirt and a pair of glasses perched on her nose completed the look.

"Barbara Gordon in a library," I said. "I thought it was too good to be true."

"Am I under arrest, officer?" She asked wryly.

"Babs!" The other girl scolded.

"Detective," I corrected. "And no. I just need to talk to you."

"Well, I'm on the clock," She said. "Walk with me.

She picked up another, larger stack of books and nodded for me to follow her into the labyrinth of shelves. I was watching her ass as she led the way.

"So, Barbara Gordon: masked vigilante by night, librarian by day," I said.

"We all have our secret identities, detective," She said.

"At least mine's somewhat clever," I said. "Yours is just pathetic."

"I like to read," She said. "Sue me."

"I'm just saying," I shrugged. "This isn't a position I imagined you in."

"Oh, believe me, I _know_ what position you _imagined_ me in," She said as we reached an aisle and she set the books down. "Did my father send you?"

"No,"

"Well, then why are you here?" She asked.

"The Policeman's Ball is next week," I said.

"Are they actually still doing that?"

I shrugged, "I think they want to maintain a sense of normalcy. Keep people sane."

"I haven't been to one of those in years," She said.

"You wanna go with me?" I asked.

"_With_ you?"

"Mmm hmm,"

"You asking me out?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"I just need a date," I said,

"Then why don't you ask my roommate?" She suggested. "She'd lose her skirt in a second for a man in uniform."

"Come on, Babs," I pleaded. "I need a quick fix. And you've been to a million of these things."

"A million too many," She sighed, then, "Fine. Pick me up at six. Room 280, west dorm."

"Alright," I said, smiling. "Six o'clock."

"Now go away," She said. "I've got work to do."

* * *

College. It was something I never did and never planned to. But I seemed to be doing a lot of things I never thought I would lately. And I wasn't exactly _attending_ a college. I was just visiting. Temporarily.

I got many weird looks from the students as I walked through the dorms in a tuxedo, but I tried not to pay attention. They weren't really what I was nervous about anyway. _It's not a date._ I kept repeating to myself. I was a guy and she was a girl and we were going to a ball together. I didn't expect anything to come of it, or I tried to. You can't blame a guy for dreaming.

Following the directional signs I found room 280 and nervously wiped my sweaty palms on my jacket before I knocked. The girl that opened the door was not Babs and I don't know why I expected it to be. I knew she had a roommate, but lately I had begun to think of myself as Babs' roommate so this busty brunette girl was a bit of a shock.

She didn't say anything in greeting so I nervously stammered, "Uh, I'm here to pick up Babs?"

The girl looked me up and down, as if judging by only my appearance if I was good enough to be her roommate's escort for the night. Finally she pushed the door open wider and gestured me inside, "She's in her room."

I took "her room" to mean the door to the left with the door shut and I walked over to it, feeling the roommate's eyes on my back as I did. I gently knocked on the door, "Babs?"

"Come on in!" She shouted from inside and I followed her command.

When I let myself in her back was to me and she was fiddling with the fastenings on her dress. It was navy blue and skintight until it reached her thighs where it flared out into an elegant curtain of ruffles. Her red hair was curled and pinned so it fell over one shoulder and I could see the freckled skin of her back and shoulders.

"Wanna give me a hand?" She asked over her shoulder. "I got the zipper but it's this clasp at the top that's being a bitch."

I slunk up behind her, dipping my fingers just under the top of her dress to slide the hook into the eye. It felt like a movie, but I could guarantee that Babs was not feeling the heat I did because as soon as the clasp was done she turned around to face me, smirking.

Her makeup was done up nice and sleek, giving her an older, distinguished look and it was hard for me to remember that she was only nineteen. Her eyes were lined in blue pencil, making the green pop out and grab me. Her lips were red, giving it a nice contrast and accentuating the poutiness that was already there.

"You look… nice," I told her.

"You don't look so bad yourself," She touched my bow tie, running her hand down my chest and into my jacket where my gun was concealed. She had it out of its holster and pointed at me in a millisecond.

"Is this for protection?" She teased.

"Don't do that," I said, taking the gun back.

"Don't let me,"

"I didn't _let _you," I told her. "You had an advantage."

"Don't blame me for your ineptitude," She said, grabbing a shawl off the back of her desk chair. "You shouldn't be so easily distracted by pretty girls."

"Pretty girls should not go waving firearms around that they have no idea how to use," I countered.

"I would know how to use them if you showed me,"

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again," I said. "There won't be any guns in your training. The Batman doesn't use guns."

"The Batman is dead."

"Tonight is supposed to be about fun," I reminded her. "No training. No fighting. I don't wanna hear the B- word one more time tonight."

"Yes, sir, Detective Grayson, sir," She saluted. "Mandated fun, what fun."

I held my arm out to her, "Shall we?"

She took it, "We shall."

I led her out of her bedroom and back into the common room where her roommate watched warily from the couch.

"Oh, kill the death look, Penny," Babs said. "I assure you Dick has every good intention in the book. We'll be back… whenever."

* * *

My car was waiting outside the dormitories and I opened the door for Babs, ushering her inside. She raised an eyebrow at my gentlemanly behavior, but slid into the car all the same, the slit in her dress exposing her smooth thigh. I let out a hissing breath as I shut the door and made my way over to the drivers' side, shaking my head to clear it.

It was a pretty short drive to Gotham's Event Hall and when I pulled up to the valet Babs looked over at me and said, "You ready to cause the scandal of the century?"

"They probably won't even notice," I said.

"You underestimate the Gotham paparazzi," She said.

When I got out of the car, the photographers paid little attention to me. I was nobody as far as this city was concerned. A lowly detective. I was fine with that for the time being. I didn't need any unwanted attention if I was going to make this vigilante thing work. Barbara Gordon was another story.

As soon as they caught sight of her fiery hair, every camera at the scene was turned on her. She ate it up, smiling and posing and fitting into my side like she was made to be there.

"Miss Gordon, we heard you wouldn't be attending tonight," I reporter said, thrusting a recorder in her face.

"I wasn't planning on it," She said. "But I got a last minute offer I couldn't refuse."

"Who is the lucky guy?" Another asked.

"Detective Richard Grayson, of course," She said. "The only member of Gotham's finest that has the credentials to be _my _date."

No sooner than Babs had dropped my name were questions being tossed at me also.

"Detective what's the word on the bank bombing?"

"How long have you been on the police force?"

"What _exactly_ is your relationship with the commissioner's daughter?"

I didn't have an answer for any of them, being completely unschooled and unprepared for a barrage of sniveling paparazzi. Babs walked through them like she'd done it a thousand times; leading me and answering all questions she could for the both of us.

"You weren't kidding about a scandal," I said into her ear.

"You think _that's_ bad?" She chuckled. "Wait til they get a load of _this_."

Her lips collided with mine, pulling me down into a dirty kiss right on the steps of the event hall for everyone with a camera to see. I saw the shutters flash and felt the air thin as the entire crowd gasped in shock.

She pulled away from me, smiling, "_Now_ it's a scandal." She wiped the lipstick off of my mouth and turned to make her way inside, leaving me stunned on the steps.

I regained what composure I had and when I looked down into the crowd I could see Commissioner Gordon looking up at me with squinted eyes and a set to his jaw I'd only seen when he was about to rip someone a new one. As his right hand man I'd never expected to be on the receiving end of one of those looks, but it was Barbara's game and we were just pieces on the board.

* * *

As I made my way inside Jason Todd, who threw an arm around me, squeezing my shoulder, greeted me.

"_Barbara Gordon_?" He mused. "_She's_ your mystery woman? The commissioner's daughter? You must have a death wish, Grayson."

"She's not my 'mystery woman,'" I said. "There is no mystery woman. She's just doing me a favor."

"That kiss looked like more than a favor," Jason said. "You got a secret life I don't know about?"

"Believe me, if you knew her, you'd know that's not true," I told him.

He didn't look like he believed me in the least, but he let me go deeper into the party, where I found Barbara with a champagne flute in her hand, laughing with some older cop. It was truly amazing the effect she could have on people. And normally that would've been a turn off for me; a girl who was gorgeous and funny and knew it, but it just made me want her more.

"You know you're in a room full of police officers," I said in regards to her alcohol.

"None of which have the balls to arrest _me_," She said. "Besides, you said this was a night for fun."

"I don't think 'fun' is defined as you tonguing my brains out in front of your father," I said.

"You complaining?" She questioned.

"No, but he will be,"

"Stop worrying about what will be and enjoy what _is_," She advised. "We're gonna show these cops what a real party is like."

"I should've known you'd use me for your own personal agendas," I said.

"Who's using you?" She asked. "I could've had any cop I wanted as my date. I chose you."

"_I _asked _you_," I reminded her.

"I'll let you keep believing that," She patted my cheek. "Let's dance."

"You know how to dance, too?" I asked. "I've hit the mother load."

"I'm trusting you to not step on my feet," She said.

I led her to the dance floor, taking one of her hands and sliding an arm around her waist so we were chest to chest. She smiled at the proximity and allowed me to lead her into a waltz.

"I'm not sure this type of dancing would be considered proper," She said.

"Compared to that kiss this is child's play," I told her.

"Where does a Gotham City cop learn to dance like this?" She asked.

"I may have only been in the circus for a little while, but I learned a lot," I said.

"I think a lot of women underestimate the spark there is in a man that can dance," She said. "Too bad I'm only doing this as a _favor_."

"You said you wanted a scandal, didn't you?" I asked.

"I did," She said.

"Then let's give them a show," I slid my arm lower around her and dipped her back, pulling her knee up over my hip.

She tossed her head back, smiling and letting me hold all of her weight. I could feel all eyes in the room on us, but it didn't matter. Most people in this room had no idea who I was, and normally that was the way I liked it. Now it seemed the only thing I liked was that smile on her face because of me.

We remained that way, dancing, our bodies pressed tightly together for most of the night. No one tried to break us up, but there wasn't a pair of eyes in the room that didn't see us. It was pure, unadulterated fun; something I hadn't experienced in a long time. That was the magic of Barbara Gordon: she took something completely ordinary, if not even a little boring, and made it the best time of your life. Sure she was strange and loud and different, but that was all part of her allure.

"I know people say that they want to dance all night," She said. "But my feet seriously hurt. Next time remind me to wear flats.

"Now who's doing who the favor?" I teased.

We dispersed from the dance floor, the other couples parting like the red seas for us to make our way over to the tables.

"I think that's the most fun I've had in a long time," She said, collapsing into a chair across from me.

"I think that's the most fun I've had ever," I told her.

"I believe it," She said. "Fun isn't exactly your forte."

"I know how to have fun," I insisted.

"If only you'd cut loose every once in a while,"

"Well, that's what I have you for isn't it?" I asked.

"Ah, so you're beginning to see my usefulness," She mused.

"If you were always in that dress I don't think I could ever call you useless again," I said,

"Down boy," She teased. "This is a _favor_ remember?"

"You're not going to let me live that down are you?"

"Nope," She said. "Never." Her eyes scanned the room and stopped about halfway through, her face dropping. "Daddy dearest isn't happy."

"Told you," I said.

"I'll have to go talk to him," She sighed. "You can entertain yourself while I'm gone right?"

"Please," I scoffed. "I'll be answering questions until I die because of you."

"At least people are noticing you now," She said.

"You seem awfully invested in getting me noticed for someone who wants me to take over for the Batman," I said.

"Bruce Wayne was the biggest millionaire in the city and no one suspected him," She reminded me. "They always suspect the quiet ones."

She stepped away from the table,disappearing through the crowd of formally clad Gotham city cops. I turned back to the tables to see Jason Todd with his eyebrow cocked at me.

* * *

Eavesdropping wasn't something I usually let myself do, but I wanted to know what the commissioner thought about me showing up with his daughter. I thought he'd be interrogating me, but as I pressed my ear to the door of the backroom Gordon and his daughter disappeared into, it was Babs that got the third degree.

"You weren't supposed to be here," He told her.

"Neither were you," She said. "At this point you'd have only been out of the hospital a week."

"This isn't about me," He sighed. "What are you doing with my detective?"

"_Your_ detective," She said. "I didn't realize you'd already staked your claim."

"Barbara, we've talked about this," Gordon said. "You stay away from my cops and I don't question the guys you go out with."

"I don't think you have the right to tell me whom I can and can't see," She said. "And in any case I'm not _out_ with him. He asked me and I said yes."

"You've been spending a lot of time with him all of a sudden," Gordon said. "Where does that come from? You've never interacted before."

"We met at a café a couple months ago," She said, not a complete lie. "And you're the one who invited him over for Christmas."

"Yeah, your mother told me she caught you two kissing in the other room while we all ate dinner," He said.

"Mistletoe," She dismissed.

"You can find someone else to spend your time with," Gordon told her.

"I'm 19 years old," She said. "I think I'm perfectly capable of choosing my own company."

"Not with older guys who work for me you aren't," He said.

"Look, dad," She said. "Nothings going on between us. He needed a date and I was the obvious choice. You have nothing to worry about, I promise. Turn off the dad alarm for a second."

"Barbara," He sighed. "I just want you to be smart about this. And the cops are off-limits."

"Fine," She said. "Can I go back to the party now?"

"Behave," He cautioned.

I remained at my spot next to the door because I only heard Babs' heels against the floor and it wasn't as bad for her to find me listening than it was for Gordon. She stopped abruptly when she saw me and sighed.

"How much did you hear?"

"Most of it," I said.

"Yeah, well if he bitches at you later please tell him that you have no other intentions besides ravishing me in the coat room," She said

"He just wants to keep his personal and professional life separate," I told her.

"He doesn't have the right to control _my _personal life as well," She said.

"I'm as disappointed as you are," I said. "I was looking forward to ravishing you in the coat room."

She laughed, but I wasn't necessarily kidding. There was always the threat that Gordon wouldn't approve of us, but it didn't seem real because we weren't together and I'd never heard him actually voice the opinion. It seemed like my chances with her were smashed before I even got to experience them. I almost felt like I didn't have the right to be disappointed because I hadn't lost anything that was ever mine.

All she said before the gun went off was, "We'll always have Christmas."

* * *

The Gotham event hall was a madhouse all at once. Zero to sixty. I heard a gunshot and then all the lights went out. I listened for Babs' heels in the hallway, but there was nothing. Nothing I could hear over the chaos in the main room anyway.

"Dick?" A weak voice asked.

"Babs?" I asked. "You okay?"

"Dick," She said again.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I can't- my arm-" She stammered.

"Where are you?" I asked. "I can't see a thing."

"I'm over here," She ground out. "I think- my arm hurts. I think it was- augh!"

"Babs!" I shouted.

There were more footsteps now in the hallway. None were heeled. I had my hand already on my gun, ready to shoot, but I didn't know what I was shooting at or where. It wasn't long before I was knocked to the ground as well and a flashlight shone in my eyes, my gun skidding across the floor.

"Alright, pretty boy," A gruff voice said. "We'll ask the questions now and you'll answer them if you want your girlfriend to keep breathing. Where's the commissioner?"

"Right here," Gordon said from the shadows.

The flashlight fell to the ground and I was released so I could grab the gun out of my ankle holster. I still didn't know where I was shooting, but Gordon seemed to and I could hear the sounds of his fist hitting flesh and the grunts as the men fell to the floor. I punch hit my gut, but it was too big and too forceful to be Gordon so I attacked. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness and my survival instincts kicked and I was able to drop the attacker in under a minute. Which wasn't much to say because Gordon beat three men in just about the same time as me and he had at least 20 years on me.

"You okay, Grayson?" He asked. I was always Grayson when police matters were involved.

"Fine, sir," I told him, breathless.

"Good," He said. "As my right-hand man I am trusting you to get my daughter out of here."

"Sir, there are hundreds of people out there," I told him. "Wouldn't I be better off-"

"She's shot in the arm, detective!" He shouted. "Don't make me ask again."

"Yes, sir," I agreed, reluctantly.

"And if you can, find a way to get these damn lights on," He gave me one last look then raced off down the hallway.

I gritted my teeth together as I knelt next to Barbara. It wasn't that I wasn't worried about her or that I was reluctant to help her, but I wasn't used to sitting on the sidelines, even when I was told to. This time, though, I didn't seem to have a choice.

"Babs, hey," I reached down and turned her face up. "You awake."

"I'm… fine," She said.

"You're shot," I said.

"Grazed."

"Let's go," I slid an arm around her, helping her to her feet. "Let's get you out of here."

"I'm fine, Dick," She strained. "Really. Go help my father-"

"I was given orders to get you to safety," I interrupted. "And that's what I'm gonna do. We can either do this the easy way or the hard way."

"What's the hard way?" She asked.

I cocked an eyebrow at her and stood her upright, then proceeding to throw her over my shoulder. She gasped, probably half in pain, and pounded an indignant fist against my back. I carried her down the hallway to the emergency exit at the end hoping that the power outage had disabled the alarm.

"Dick!" She shouted. "Wait. I can help you."

"The only way you're going to help me tonight is by cooperating," I told her.

"No, the lights. We need the lights," She said. "If you take me to the fuse box then I can fix it."

"Babs," I bent down, setting her feet on the floor. "I can't protect you and get this done."

"You don't have to protect me," She said. "Just take me down to the basement, I'll fix the fuse box and then you can Casanova me out of here all you want."

"What makes you think _you_ can fix the fuse box?" I asked. "And with a bleeding arm."

"I'm good with that kind of stuff," She said.

I let out a hissing breath, my eyes narrowed at her, "I swear to Christ if you get me fired…"

"I'd be doing you a favor," She said.

"We'll need to wrap your arm up first," I said.

"Are you gonna need to rip up my dress as gauze?" She asked wryly.

"Babs, can we not do this right now?" I sighed.

"Hmm, so serious in the eyes of danger," She said.

"If you're going to stay and help I'm gonna need you to be serious," I said. "This isn't a game. This is a hostage situation."

"Yeah, hostage of cops," She said.

"That may seem ideal to you," I said. "But if all the cops are here whom do you suggest we call for help?"

"We don't need help," She said. "You're here and I'm here and my father's here, along with hundreds of Gotham's finest. If we can't fight our way out of this then we deserve to die."

"Babs you're not helping," I sighed, taking of my jacket to wrap around her arm.

"Who has the power and motive to attack a building full of cops anyway?" She asked.

"I was just thinking the same thing," I said.

* * *

"I think it's even darker down here," Babs said as we descended into the basement.

"Just be quiet and stick close to me," I said. "We don't know if there's more of them down here."

"How many do you think there are?" She whispered.

"I don't know. There were at least three in the hallway earlier," I said. "They've got to have enough to overtake 200 hundred cops and their dates."

"This situation is really fishy to me," She said.

"It's fishy to everyone."

"I'm just saying. All these robberies and hostages and bombs all happening within the same few months?" She said. "Stuff like this doesn't usually happen unless-"

"Unless Gotham has a new Bane," I finished. "I know."

"What are we gonna do?" She asked.

"Right now we're gonna find this damn fuse box," I said. "We'll deal with the bigger picture once we're not stuck in the dark."

"Alright," Babs said, halting in front of me. "I can't see a thing. Even if I find this fuse box I won't be able to do anything to it if I can't find the right switches. You don't have a flashlight or anything on you?"

"I have my cell phone," I offered.

"I guess that'll have to do," She said and took the phone from me.

The basement of the event hall was dank and unfinished, filled with boilers and furnaces galore. It was like the opening scene to a horror movie, complete with the scantily clad, bleeding damsel. Babs had ditched her heels in an effort to be stealthier and I had ripped the sleeve off my jacket as a wrap for her arm.

As far as we knew, any other bad guys weren't aware of our presence, but it would only take them finding their unconscious comrades to lead them to us. I didn't exactly feel right disobeying orders, but I figured I was helping the greater good by employing Babs to fix the lights. Plus, I was fairly certain Gordon was used to his daughter doing whatever she pleased and as long as I didn't get her shot again I hoped he'd understand.

"Alright, well the fuse box wouldn't be anywhere near water," Babs said. "So I think the safest bet would be away from the boilers. Also they kinda freak me out."

"Will it take long to fix it?" I asked.

"I don't know," She admitted. "Everything else down here looks insanely old, so why wouldn't the fuse box be too? I should be able to figure it out though."

"Yeah, how exactly are you so skilled in the art of electricity rewiring?" I asked.

"James and Tony were always pretty useless and my dad was working all the time so I had to step up," She said. "And then Bane happened and that skill became even more useful. I can do all sorts of stuff with technology."

"And yet you choose to use that skill to hunt me down and work in a library," I said.

"Well, I'm putting it to good use now, aren't I?" She said.

"With a hole in your arm, no less," I said.

"So I was thinking; they had to have someone down here to turn the lights _off_ right?" She said.

"Right."

"So, what if he's still down here?"

"Shit, Babs," I hissed. "You're just thinking of this now?"

"Don't bitch at me," She said. "You didn't think of it either."

"Alright, well if there is someone down here why haven't they attacked us yet?" I asked.

"I don't know," She replied. "Maybe they're waiting for the right time."

"You should get behind me," I told her.

"No way," She said. "If someone sneaks up behind us it'd be better if they sneak up on the one with the gun."

"Are we at least getting close?" I asked. "The more time we waste down here the more damage they could do up there."

Babs waved the cell phone over the room once again, "That room over there looks promising. Cover me."

"You're just loving this aren't you?" I said.

"It's fun to play police woman," She said and reached forward to jiggle the doorknob. "It's locked."

"Alright, step aside," I said.

"It's locked, Dick," She reminded me. "And if you try to shoot it open they'll hear."

"Step aside," I repeated and she did with a roll of her eyes.

I'd kicked doors open before, but never in front of an audience I was looking to impress. The door swung open with a crash and Babs gasped in surprise.

"And shooting it would've made too much noise," She said.

"Just do your thing, please," I said, pushing her inside.

"Yes, sir, Detective Grayson, sir," She saluted and slid past me, into the room.

I followed her in shining the cell phone light over the walls. Her bare feet quietly padded over the concrete floor, following the digital blue light- that I had to constantly renew- until it came across a long black cabinet-type thing in the far corner. I accompanied her over to it where she opened it up with a jerk.

"Bingo," She alleged.

"How long does this usually take?" I asked.

"Depends on how long it takes me to find the right switches," She replied. "This building must be hella old because there's practically roman numerals on these switches."

"Look as soon as you get the lights on we're gonna have to haul ass out of here," I said. "Because as soon as they realize someone is down here they're going to charge us like a bull in a china shop."

"And if they catch us?" She asked.

"We're most likely dead," I told her.

"Well," She said. "Isn't that just peachy. I have the switch. Do I flip it?"

"You ready to run?" I asked.

"Ready if you are," She said.

She counted down from three and she flipped the switch with a loud _thunk_. I took her hand and led her back through the basement (it was considerably easier with lights to guide our way.) and up the staircase. I could hear the commotion from the main room as we neared the top and as much as I would've loved to rush in and see what was happening I had to follow orders so I steered Babs towards the exit at the end of the hall.

"Dick.." Babs cautioned as she glanced down the hallway to their hoard of muscly guys hurtling towards us from the ballroom.

"End of the hall," I said.

"That doesn't look too good either," She said.

Sure enough, at the end of the hall, guarding the doors, were two more guards, these ones harboring guns. All I had was my half empty hand gun and a pocket knife. Babs was completely unarmed and injured and untrained. It didn't look good.

"Keep out of the way and keep your head down," I said to Babs as we got closer to the exit.

I started with the first gunman, grabbing the barrel of his gun and twisting his arm around so his back was to my chest and the gun was pointed at his partner. I squeezed my finger over his, launching a bullet at the second one. Babs yelped as the blast went off but I didn't have time to see if she was okay because the first gunman had dug his elbow into my gut.

We faced each other and he had the gun pointed right at me, but I didn't bother to pull mine because it would be useless if he fired first. I saw his arm tense as he went to pull the trigger and dove forward, knocking him to the ground and the gun across the hall. It was old school street fighting now. He punched me in the jaw and I elbowed him on the side of the head, knocking his head against the concrete wall in the process. He was out.

A scream pierced the air and I quickly got to my feet once more. One of the guards from down the hall had Barbara in his iron grasp, a hand pressed over her bullet wound and the other pressing a gun to her temple. A tear rolled down Babs' cheek, but she kept a brave face. I could see her clenching her teeth to avoid crying out in pain.

"That's right, lover boy," The guard said. "Drop the gun and your little girlfriend doesn't get her brains blown all over the wall."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He would do it. I could see it in his eyes. I didn't know who he was or why he was here or why he was willing to shoot an innocent girl in the head, but it didn't matter. If I didn't do what he asked there would be one less Barbara Gordon in the world.

I turned the gun up, holding my hands up in surrender and dropped in on the floor.

"Like hell," Babs ground out.

I could tell she was going to do something, but I couldn't react fast enough. Soon she had dug her toe into the guard's foot and spun around to elbow him in the temple, just as I had the other one. Only she wasn't as strong as I was or as tall and she wasn't near a wall so all she did was deter him for a moment. I wanted to jump in and help her but the two other guards behind them were charging forward and I knew that if either or both of them got involved with Babs it'd be over.

The first one dropped with a bullet to the shoulder and the other one hit me with a nice punch to the stomach, but I couldn't let a little windedness stop me. I attacked again, but this one was quick. I still had my gun but he was never in position for me to fire. We went around and around for a moment, he didn't have a gun, but he was skilled and I never really liked using my gun, it was more of a scare tactic for me, but I was beginning to fear I'd have to use it for it's intended purpose tonight.

He came up close to me, upper cutting right beneath my jaw and I instinctively pulled the trigger. He dropped to the ground, but I didn't have time to feel bad because Babs was still fighting off her own guard. She was doing pretty well for a wounded girl with only a few months' training, but I came up behind the guard all the same, wrapping my arm around his neck in a sleeper hold until he, too, fell to the ground unconscious.

"Is he dead?" Babs asked, breathlessly.

"I don't think so," I said. "Lets not stick around to find out."

She nodded and then her eyes started to drift closed, her stance wavering. I quickly stepped forward, catching her before she fell to the ground, "Hey, hey. You're okay. You're alright."

"Dizzy," She breathed.

"You lost a lot of blood," I told her. "And you're probably in shock. Let's get you out of here, okay?"

"What about…" She gestured lazily to the ballroom as I scooped her into my arms.

"It's fine Babs," I said. "Like you said all of Gotham's finest are in there."

* * *

It was a feat in and of itself keeping Barbara awake and driving home. I did manage it though, despite my own exhaustion and guilt for not staying at the event hall. Babs was still wobbly as I helped her out of the car, but she was able to walk inside with assistance from me.

I deposited her on the couch where she fell back against the pillows a hand to her head, "I have a headache." She told me.

"I'll bet you do," I sat next to her and took her chin so I could check her eyes' responsiveness. "I'm gonna go get the first aid kit. Stay awake."

"No promises," She said as I left.

Once I was alone I allowed a moment to myself to assess my own wounds. I definitely had a few bruised ribs and my jaw felt like it'd been knocked out of place. My arms ached from the fighting and carrying Babs to the car. It was a close call and we were both ill prepared and if we ever hoped to take over for the batman we'd have to step it up.

I dropped my suit jacket over the back of the kitchen chair and loosened my tie as retrieved the first aid kit from the upper cabinet. My side burned in pain as I reached.

I returned to the living room with a glass of water for Babs, the first aid kit, a bucket of ice and a stack of towels. Babs was fighting her drooping eyes on the couch. The blood from her arm had soaked through the makeshift bandage I made and was streaked down her arm. The guard pressing on it definitely didn't do it any good.

"Are we having champagne?" Babs asked, eyeing the ice bucket. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"I don't have any ice packs," I said.

"You're probably gonna need to work on that if we're gonna be getting in these brawls all the time," She said.

"Call me crazy but I'm actually not expecting to get into brawls all the time," I told her then handed her the water. "Drink this."

'Your face looks like it hurts," She said.

"My face is fine," I said. "Right now we need to deal with the gash in your arm."

I expected her to protest, but she just relaxed against the couch cushions and let me take her arm. She winced as I removed the material as carefully as I could and laid it aside. The bullet had cut through about four layers of her skin and it was raw and bright red from not receiving proper treatment. I gently took an ice cube and a towel and tried to clean it as best I could.

"Ow!" She yelped. "Jesus, Dick. Easy."

"If I don't clean it now it'll get infected. If it's not already," I dipped a cotton ball in the disinfectant. "This is gonna sting."

Babs let out a drawn out groan as I cleaned the wound, but, surprisingly, didn't pull away. Her hand fisted in the material of my dress pants for a moment. I didn't want to spend too much time torturing her so I gave up on the disinfectant and taped a square of gauze over.

"That wasn't so bad now was it?" I asked.

"Not as bad as being shot," She agreed.

"Grazed,"

"I think my ribs are bruised," She said.

"Join the club," I wrapped a handful of ice cubes in a towel and pressed it to her stomach. "Drink the water."

After a moment of silence Babs reached forward and made herself an ice pack and held it to the bruises on my jaw. I slid forward so I could sit with my back against the couch and pulled her legs over my lap. We sat like that for a long time, silently breathing and fighting sleep as the minutes ticked by. I kept my phone in my pocket in case the precinct called, but they didn't. I was selfishly glad because I wanted to stay on the couch with Barbara until my face stopped hurting.

* * *

The doorbell woke me up even though I didn't remember falling asleep. The clock on top of the TV said it was three am. Babs was still half draped over me holding the ice pack against her abdomen. It had melted and left a wet mark on her dress. She apparently hadn't heard the doorbell and I was slightly worried until I saw her chest rise and fall.

I carefully tried to slip out from underneath her legs, but the action woke her, "What happened?" She asked, alarmed.

"It's okay," I told her. "It's just the doorbell."

"Who would ring your doorbell at three in the morning?"

"I don't know," I said. "You're already here."

"I don't think you should answer it," She said.

"Relax," I told her. "It's probably just another cop checking up on me. I'll be right back."

I rubbed my eyes as I made my way to the front door and the bell rang again. I opened it to see Commissioner Gordon on my doorstep. Why were Gordons the only people who came looking for me?

"Is she here?" He demanded, pushing past me.

"She's in the living room," I said.

He didn't wait for me to escort him and stalked into the living room at a pace that was way too fast for a man who'd been up all night, most likely fighting off bad guys. He looked a little roughed up, but altogether okay. Better than Babs and me at least.

When I finally joined them in the living room he was kneeling before his daughter, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, dad," She said. "Dick fixed me up. Took a few for the team too."

Gordon stood up and came over to me, dropping a hand onto my shoulder, "Thank you, son."

"My pleasure, sir," I told him.

"That place wasn't anywhere I wanted my daughter to be," He said.

"If I may ask, sir," I said. "_What_ exactly was that?"

"We're not sure yet," He said quietly. "They wanted jewels, valuables. At least that's what they said. What they really wanted was to show us what they're capable of. I don't know why, but at least we're not dealing with a faceless assailant now."

"More like a hundred faces," I said. "Who are they working for?"

"We're not sure yet," He told me. "We have one of them in one of the holding cells back at the precinct, but I don't know what we're going to get out of him."

"Should I be there, sir?" I asked. "I feel like I haven't done anything to help."

"Nonsense, detective," He dismissed. "You got my daughter to safety. I couldn't ask any more of you. Looks like you got in quite a scuffle too."

"Nothing I can't handle, sir," I said.

"Good man," He clapped me on the shoulder. "I can't thank you enough. I'll be in touch with the debriefing as soon as possible. Babs. Lets go."

"What?" Babs asked. "Go where?"

"You're staying at my house tonight," He told her.

"Daddy I have work in the morning," She said.

"Work?" He scoffed. "You're not going anywhere for a couple days. You need to let that arm heal."

"It's fine, daddy," She said. "Dick got it all fixed up."

"I don't care what he did," He said. "I don't want you to be alone right now."

"I won't be alone," She said. "I'll stay with Dick. I'm already here and it's closer to the school anyway."

"Dick has done enough for you tonight," Gordon said, but I could tell it wasn't just that he wanted to relieve me. "Come back with me and rest. Work will understand."

"Daddy, I really don't want to make a big deal out of this," She said. "I just want to get back to normal and show them I'm not scared."

"You should be scared, Babs," Gordon said. "They could've killed you with a better shot."

"She can stay here, sir," I cut in. "I have more than enough space. I can find her a room for the night."

"I couldn't ask that of you, detective," He said.

"Really it's no problem," I said. "She's dead tired and if anyone _is_ looking for her they wouldn't come here in a million years. You could stay too if you like."

"I'd just be at your house alone anyway, daddy," Babs said. "You have to get back to the precinct. This is the best bet we have. And if it'll make you feel better I won't go into work tomorrow."

"I can bring her back to your house or the precinct or her dorm tomorrow," I said. "We can figure it all out in the morning."

Gordon was silent for a moment. There wasn't a reason for him to say no and really everything we'd said was true, even though it was made up completely on the spot.

"Fine," The commissioner sighed. "But I want a call in the morning. From the both of you."

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Thank you for checking on me daddy," Babs said. "Go nab some bad guys."

"Be careful," Gordon said, kissing his daughter's forehead. "I'm serious. Get some sleep and take it easy."

"Of course,' Babs agreed.

Gordon stood up and came back over to me, "Good work, detective. You take it easy, too."

"Thank you, sir," I said.

I showed him out, feeling the hostility steaming off of him. He was grateful I'd saved her, but he also wanted me away from her, but he didn't have a reason to. I felt an odd sort of triumph at getting the blessing of the Police Commissioner to have his daughter in my house. I reentered the living room, yawning and Babs was sitting on the couch, smirking.

"What are you so chipper about?" I asked. "You were just shot."

"I think you just turned into every guy I ever dated in high school," She said. "A lot smoother thought, because none of them ever convinced my father to let me sleep in the same house as them. Not that I didn't do it anyway."

"I was hoping that being shot would have eliminated your sarcasm ability, but no dice apparently." I said.

"You know what we have to do now, right?" She asked

"What do we have to do now?" I asked.

"We have to go see Lucius Fox."

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. I was distracted with school and life and practical things, but I did pull through eventually. Hope I didn't disappoint ;)


	4. Part 4

"I can't believe you talked me into this," I said.

"I'm right and you know it," Babs called back to me.

"Yeah, well, I'm ditching work for this," I said. "So it better not be a waste of time."

"He wouldn't turn away warriors of justice," She said.

"We're hardly warriors," I said. "Just last week you had your arm nearly shot off."

Fox Manor was almost as extravagant as Wayne Manor, maybe even more so because of it's modernization. As the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Lucius Fox wasn't exactly lacking in funds. He was supposed to be retired, the wrath of Bane and almost being sentenced to an icy grave had their toll on him, but everyone knew he still consulted with the company as if he still ran in it. He, however, resided in his home, hardly leaving and we couldn't exactly have his butler relay the message that we were in need of information and weapons, so there we were.

"Ready?" Babs asked, her hand hovering over the doorbell.

"Got my badge just in case," I replied.

Babs pressed the small square button and the elegant doorbell rang throughout the house. An awkward moment later and the door swung open, a young girl, perhaps Babs' age, standing before us.

"May I help you?" She asked.

"Yes, actually," Babs said. "We're here to see Lucius Fox."

"Are you now?" The girl scoffed. "The only people who come to see my father are Jacob Adler and Jim Gordon."

"Barbara Gordon at your service," Babs said, holding out her hand.

The girl ignored it, "Do you have an appointment?"

"Actually, no. But-"

"Then, I'm sorry," The girl interrupted. "My father doesn't see anyone without an appointment."

I pulled my badge out, holding it up for her, "Detective Dick Grayson. We'd like to see your father please."

"Is he under arrest?" She asked.

"Not just yet," I said.

"Well, unless you have a warrant, I'm sorry but I just can't help you," She said.

Babs leaned towards the girl, lowering her voice, "We're friends of Bruce Wayne."

The girl raised an eyebrow, "Just a minute."

The door close again in our faces, "What is it with these rich people thinking they're above the law."

"Well you _don't_ have a warrant," Babs reminded me.

"I'm just saying," I said. "Most people do whatever I say the second they see the badge."

"Well, I mean she _is_ Lucius Fox's daughter," Babs said. "Did you really expect her to freeze up the second she saw your creds?"

"She was his daughter?" I asked.

"Duh," Babs said. "She looks just like him."

"Hmm," I considered. "You think she knows?"

"Don't underestimate the daughters of powerful men," She said. "We're a very nosy breed."

"I'll say,"

"My father has agreed to see you," His daughter said once she opened the door again. "But keep it short. He doesn't have time to waste on nonsense."

* * *

Tam (That was her name) led us up to Lucius Fox's office. The inside of the Manor was just as beautiful as the outside. Columns and carved adornments in every archway, dark cherry wood railings and matching floors, expensive, rare artwork on the walls. Fox wasn't really a man known for his subtlety, which made him sort of an unlikely ally for the Batman, but I supposed everyone had their secrets.

"Just through there," Tam told us, pointing to two large, white, French doors at the end of the hall.

Babs nodded her thanks and led the way to the doors. Upon entering Lucius Fox was leaning against his desk, dressed in a fine suit, awaiting our arrival. He raised a knowing eyebrow at me because he'd seen me before and was probably confused by my presence.

"Mr. Fox, I'm-"

"Barbara Gordon," Fox interrupted. "I know. The commissioner's daughter. And John Blake."

"Dick Grayson, sir," I corrected. "John Blake was an alias given to me by the boys' home I grew up in."

"Dick Grayson," He said. "What can I do for you two?"

"We've come to discuss something with you," Babs said. "About your affiliation with Bruce Wayne."

"Have a seat," Fox offered, taking a seat in the desk chair and gesturing to the two armchairs before the desk. "Why this sudden interest in Gotham's most famous millionaire? Almost two years after his death."

"We believe you might have… information," Babs said.

"Information about what?" He asked.

"Mr. Wayne's private comings and goings," I said.

"Now why would I know that?" Fox asked.

"Well you were very close with him," Babs said. "He left his empire to you."

"Bruce Wayne was a very private man," Fox told us. "Just like his father. I knew his business strategies. Nothing more."

"Yes," Babs agreed. "But we were wondering just how deep does your knowledge go about his _business_ strategies."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Fox said.

"The Applied Sciences unit of Wayne Enterprises," I said. "You were head of that department, were you not?"

"I was," Fox said. "I don't see why that's relevant."

"That department was shut down some nine years ago, right?" I asked.

"Yes,"

"Why?"

"It was a wasteful and unprofitable department," Fox said. "When Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham he went through his father's company, weeding out the useless and restoring it to its former glory. He could have fired me, but instead he moved me to a higher position with better pay. Is that a crime officer?"

"No, sir," I said. "But none of the technology created or started in the department was destroyed or moved. It was all just left as it was. Forgive me for thinking that's a little suspicious."

"Bruce Wayne thought that perhaps one day, when profits were low and Wayne Enterprises needed new material he would reopen the department," Fox said. He didn't want the new head of the department to have to start from scratch."

"And how did you feel about that, Mr. Fox?" I asked. "Your life's work, your _dream_, just being forgotten like that? How could you let Bruce Wayne cut your work short for nothing but the sake of money?"

"Dick," Barbara warned.

"You'll find that Bruce Wayne lived for little else than the sake of money and prosperity," Fox said. "I admired his drive and ambition and thought perhaps I could make use of myself through other means."

"_Bruce Wayne_ might not have cared for anything but money," Babs said. "But perhaps there was someone else…?"

"I'm not sure I understand the point of this meeting," Fox said. "I am not telling you anything you don't already know and I am an old man. I don't have any time to waste, so I will cut right to the chase; what does any of this information mean to a rookie detective and the commissioner's daughter?"

"Everyone else seems to have just accepted Bruce Wayne's death as a war crime committed by Bane, but we think otherwise," Barbara said. "We believe his connection goes deeper than that."

"How do you mean?" Fox asked.

"We believe that Bruce Wayne had much more involvement than just being Gotham's most eligible bachelor," Babs said. "And we were hoping you could confirm it for us."

"You want to take over for the Batman," Fox said, surprising us all.

Babs said yes as soon as I said no.

"Babs!" I scolded.

"He knows, Dick," She said. "It's what we came here to find out."

"I'm assuming your father told you," Fox said. "About Bruce Wayne's- ahem- alternate identity."

"You assume correctly," Babs said.

"And you," Fox said, looking to me. "Did the commissioner tell you as well? Or did Bruce Wayne himself?"

"A little of both," I replied.

"It won't be an easy job," Fox told us.

"We aren't looking for easy," Babs said.

"That is exactly what I wanted to hear, Miss Gordon," Fox said. "Now, if you'll step into my office…"

A shift of a paperweight later and the entire shelved wall to our left slid away, revealing a big, open, concrete room filled with electronics and gadgets galore. Lucius Fox led the way and Babs and I followed him into the secret room.

* * *

"This," Fox said. "Is the material I used to make the batman's suit; its bulletproof, tear-resistant, lightweight, water proof and, most importantly, black. But I've since developed a newer, better fabric."

"Better than black?" Babs teased.

"Very much so, Miss Gordon," Fox said. "It looks and feels like cotton, but when put up against any kind of momentum it becomes instantly as tough as steel. Not to mention it'll leave you unharmed. No bumps, no bruises."

"Very nice," Babs said, taking the square of fabric from him. "Can you make a suit out of it?"

"I can make anything out of it," Fox said. "But that's not all."

"What we really need, Mr. Fox," I said. "Is a tracking device."

"A tracking device?" Fox and Babs asked together.

"Why?" Babs continued.

"Because when they strike again- and they will-" I said. "We need to have a way to find out where they're coming from."

"Who are 'they?'" Fox asked.

"We're not exactly sure," Babs said. "They attacked the event hall and the robbed the museum and bombed the bank, but we don't know exactly who they are."

"So I'm not the only one who thinks they're all the same culprit," Fox said.

"Indeed you're not," I said. "That's the whole reason Babs wanted to track you down."

"So this was _your_ idea," Fox said to Babs.

"There isn't anyone else I'd want to be our ally," Babs told him.

"The same to you, Miss Gordon," He said. "The same to you. If you follow me I can show you what I've got in terms of tracking devices. The batman never had much use for them- he preferred to go after his suspects blind- but I kept them around just in case. It seems my instincts were correct."

"We don't want to be exactly like the batman anyway," Babs said as he let us through his maze of gadgets.

"Oh?" Fox asked.

"We feel as though what Gotham needs isn't a new batman, just a new guardian," I said.

"And that's you two?" He asked. He had a sort of way of speaking that was both condescending and admiring at the same time.

"Who better?" Babs said. "A policeman and a librarian. The perfect team."

Fox laughed, "Bruce Wayne was nothing more than an orphaned rich kid. If anything is true it's that you don't have to be extraordinary to become a hero."

* * *

The more time we spent at Fox Manor the more Babs loved it and the more I hated it. Had Lucius not been about 80 years old he and Barbara would've made a good match. I'd never seen people get so excited about technology before and I couldn't help but feel like a third wheel. The extent of my tech skills went only as far as my handgun.

Fox did have quite a display of weapons, which I found rather intriguing, but I always got a disapproving look from Babs when I indulged in it. "The Batman didn't use weapons," she would say. Only weird, portable, complicated toys, apparently.

Babs always had more time to spend there than I did because as far as I knew she was only taking a few classes at the university and there were always other nerds to run the library. I, on the other hand, had an actual job and people who were already suspicious of my whereabouts to worry about. I told myself that was fine. It was Babs' idea to go see Fox in the first place so she could _live_ there for all I cared.

But I did care.

On one particular day she had beat me there and I had let myself in (We both had keys now.) and made it past the glaring Tamara Fox only to find Babs in one of the bedrooms, stripped to her underwear and standing on a pedestal with her arms and legs spread out. I stopped short in the doorway, just staring.

"Uh…" I managed.

"Afternoon, detective," She said wryly. "If you're here to strip search me, that job's already been done."

"She's being measured for her suit," Fox said from a chair in the corner. "We could do yours as well if you please."

"Even if he doesn't please," Babs said. "I sure do."

"Suit?" I asked, clearing my throat and trying to look away from Babs' ass.

"So they don't know who you are of course," She said. "Would you like a cape as well? I'm getting one."

"A cape, Babs?" I rolled my eyes. "Why?"

"Batman had one," She reminded me.

"That's because the batman was a dramatic little rich boy who wanted people to notice him," Fox said, folding his newspaper. "I'd expect you two were looking for stealth."

"We are," I said, more to Babs than Fox.

"Stealth, smealth," Babs sighed. "I don't want people to think I'm just a cheap imitation. I want recognition."

"What's your superhero name then?" I asked. "'Girl Scout?'"

She stuck her tongue out at me before turning back and re-extending her arms to be measured. I took a seat in an armchair next to Fox. Babs finished her measuring and hopped down from the pedestal to collect her clothes.

"Didn't you say you were considering 'Batgirl?'" Fox asked.

"_Considering_," She repeated. "I'm not sure if I like it. It might be too… grandiose. Copycattish."

"Batgirl, eh?" I asked.

"Yeah," She said, jumping into her jeans. "I mean, I don't want to be a complete imitation, but if I'm too different people might question my motives. At least with 'Batgirl' they'll at least know that my intentions are good. I mean, I'll still have to do something substantial to get some respect, but that was expected from the beginning."

"What's all this 'I,' stuff?" I asked. "Last I checked we were still in this together, am I right?"

"You've gotta make your own image, buster," She said, finishing her dressing and tugging on my arm. "Starting with your suit. Now _strip_, boy wonder."

She succeeded in pulling me out of the chair and pushing me towards the fitter, taking my seat. I cocked an eyebrow at her, removing my suit jacket and loosening my tie.

"Boring!" Babs admonished. "Add a little flavor. We get very little excitement around here."

"So, not only am I no longer your partner, but now I'm your personal stripper as well?" I asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Babs said. "You've always been my personal stripper."

"I think it would be best if we busied ourselves with other means, Barbara," Fox suggested. It was weird to hear someone address her by her full name.

"But…" Babs attempted to protest, but trailed off with a sigh and followed Fox out the door, throwing a wink my way.

* * *

"Where are you going?" I asked as Babs trotted down the stairs toward the door.

"Out," She replied, slipping her arms into a cropped jacket.

She was dressed in a tight green sweater that did its job a little too well and I skirt short enough for me to arrest her. I swallowed thickly as she pulled on and zipped up a pair of knee-high leather boots. She seemed completely oblivious to my arousal as she searched throughout the living room; probably for her keys.

"Out where?" I asked.

"It's just a party, daddy," She mocked. "I promise there will be no boys and adult supervision."

"It's Tuesday night," I told her.

"Yeah?"

"Where could you possibly be going on a Tuesday night, dressed like that?"

"I've got a date," She said,

I felt my jaw automatically tighten, "A date?"

"Yeah, it's this thing where two people of the opposite sex- well, not always- go out to dinner or a movie or walk in the park and then have a sloppy one night stand," She said. "At least by my standards. Christ, where are my keys?"

"Maybe you've forgotten," I said. "But there's a dangerous criminal out there. That, _by your standards_, we are required to stop."

"You're not gonna ground me are you?" She asked teasingly.

"I'm serious, Babs," I said, getting to my feet. "You can't be running around like a normal girl. You've got priorities."

"Alright, warden, chillax for a second," She said. "Last I checked we didn't even know _who_ said criminal was and we had no leads. So unless you uncovered something substantial since the last time I saw you there is no reason for me to be cooped up here; doing nothing."

"We could be training," I said. "Or searching for evidence."

"We've examined every piece of evidence there is from top to bottom and back to front," She said. "If there were any clues we would have found them by now. And we're training tomorrow."

"We could train tonight and tomorrow," I said. I wasn't sure why I was so against her going out, but anger pulsed through my veins and I knew I couldn't let her out that door. "You need all the practice you can get."

"Look," She sighed, finally finding her keys and beginning to get frustrated with me. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: You're not my father. You do not control my life. I'm nineteen years old and if I want to go on a date I will. I haven't broken your training schedule and I've been at Lucius' all week. If anyone deserves a night off, it's me. Why don't you go do something too? We can both cut loose. Go have a one night stand with someone other than me for once."

"Babs," I said. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"Well then I'm glad it's my life because if I had to live by your rules I'd be one bored son of a bitch," She said. "I am leaving now. Don't wait up."

* * *

Babs' back hit the training mat with a loud _thunk_ for the fourth time that morning.

"Christ, Dick," She groaned. "Having a bad day?"

"Maybe you were just out too late last night," I said, not so nicely. "Off your game a bit."

She got to her feet, flyaway red hairs sticking to the sweat on her forehead, "I've been living on four hours of sleep since I was 15. Maybe you're just being a little too hard on me."

"And you think any criminals out there wont be?" I asked.

"What's your deal this morning?" She asked, a hand on her hip. "You've been strangely passive-aggressive lately."

"You've been pretty reckless lately," I shot back. "Too bad I can't say that's strange."

She raised an eyebrow at me, "What is it, Dick? Your cycle? Because I have some midol in my room."

"I've had it with your sarcasm," I said. "Get back to me when you grow up."

"Well, I've had it with your patronization," She called after me. "Why don't you get back to me when you take that stick out of your ass."

* * *

I didn't talk to Babs for the rest of the day, which was dumb because I was mad at her _because_ I didn't get to see her. I was the one who picked the fight, I was the one who waited up, listening for her to come back even though it was entirely impossible to hear the front door from my room. I'd thought my days of staying up until ridiculous hours of the night with nothing but Barbara Gordon on my mind were over.

For some reason I didn't feel like I could come out of my room, mostly because I didn't know what I'd say to her once I did. I couldn't exactly explain to her why I was so hostile and I felt like an idiot for doing it in the first place. So I kept the door closed, just milling about until the sun went down.

Eventually my phone rang and I was glad for the distraction, but I wouldn't be for long.

"Grayson," I answered.

"Dick," Gordon's said, his tone urgent. "I need you down here."

I stood up abruptly, "What's happened, sir?"

"A break in," He said. "Jeweler's house. I guess they didn't expect the family to still be home and now we've got a hostage situation on our hands."

"I'm on my way," I said.

I dressed quickly in my suit, but my jacket was somewhere downstairs. I knew I'd have to go down there to leave, and I'd hoped I wouldn't run into Babs (Wayne Manor _was_ a big place.), but now that I had to search for the jacket the chances of seeing her were heightened. After a few more seconds of pettiness I remembered I actually had a duty to do and exited my room.

It was strange, but I used to be a pretty neat guy. Neat as in clean, of course, but when Babs moved in I adopted her style of clutter and with it, a knack for leaving things around and then forgetting about it. When I made my way down the stairs I found myself in the living room and Babs asleep on the couch, her pillow on top of my jacket.

I cursed quietly to myself. Of course she'd be _right on top of_ what I needed most when I was trying to avoid her. She wasn't even like a person most of the time; she was a force of nature in and of herself. Completely unavoidable.

She was still in her sports bra and workout pants so I was led to believe that she trained for a while more after our little spat. Maybe she was like me; she relieved her stress and pent up anger by beating the hell out of a punching bag. Sure, it was tiring, but it did the job. So maybe, if I were lucky (Fat chance.) she'd be too knocked out to notice me slipping the jacket out from under her.

As I pulled she stirred and I could do nothing, but cringe, as she sat up and blinked at me warily, "Dick?"

"Hey, Babs," I said.

"What are you doing?" She yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"I have to go," I said. "Your dad called."

"What?" She asked, suddenly alert and awake. "What happened?"

"A break in," I told her. "Apparently they're still inside, but I don't know much yet."

"It's late," She said. "This has got to be them. Do you think-"

"I don't know, Babs," I said. "I guess I'll just have to see."

"Let me go with you," She pleaded. "This could be our chance to nab them."

"It's police business, Babs," I said. "You can't come without raising suspicion."

"You can't handle them on your own," She told me. "You know what happened last time."

"Yes, I do know," I said. "But we don't have a choice. I'll try to call if there's a way for you to come down."

Babs bit her lip, "Okay, fine. But take this." She handed me a small electronic: Fox's tracking device.

"Be back as soon as I can," I said.

She caught my wrist before I could turn away, "Be careful. Please?"

"Always am," I replied.

* * *

It was a regular madhouse outside the Fontana Mansion. David Fontana started out working at the local jewelry store, but soon worked his way up and took control of the company, becoming almost as rich as Bruce Wayne himself. God knew what kind of trinkets he had hidden around his house and robbing him could turn out to be just as effective as robbing his very store. This was the first time, however, they had ever been in a position in which we could potentially catch them and Gordon had called in all the manpower we had.

SWAT teams, special forces, every cop in town, you name it, they were there. And then there was me, weaving through the crowd, through the flashing lights, to where Gordon and every detective he trusted or needed were standing in a semicircle. It felt weird, but rewarding, to be included.

"What's the situation?" I asked.

"They've asked for the usual," Gordon told me. "Let them get away with whatever they have and they won't touch Fontana and his family."

"So what do we do?"

"All attempts to get in are unlikely," Gordon said. "The house is a damn fortress and you saw how many guys there were at the ball."

"The ball?" Foley scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me. You can seriously believe these are the same perps."

"Why, yes, Lieutenant," Gordon said. "I do believe that. And you would do well to remember who your superiors are."

I stifled a laugh behind my hand, "So we've checked around the whole house? There's no way for them to get out without us knowing? These old mansions tend to have lots of weird secret entrances and exits."

"There isn't really a way to know for sure," Gordon said. "But we've got the whole house surrounded."

"What if it doesn't let out right outside the house?" I asked. "Has anyone checked those woods back there?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Grayson," Foley snorted. "This isn't Scooby Doo. There isn't gonna be some secret tunnel beneath the house for them to escape through."

"Maybe not," I said, gritting my teeth. "But there could be a getaway car, or more accomplices waiting out there. We could've walked right into another trap."

"Maybe you're right, Dick," Gordon said. "We should at least send a team out there."

"Are you kidding me, commissioner?" Foley demanded. "Don't buy into what this hothead is saying. He's gonna get even more of our men killed."

"Let me go, commissioner," I said. "I'll look for patterns."

"No, Dick," Gordon said. "I need you here with me. We'll send one of the SWATs out there."

"This can't be happening," Foley scoffed. "I know you've got a soft spot for this kid, but we've gotta think rationally about this."

I clenched my fists, trying to ignore Foley as best I could, "Commissioner, I _need _to be out there. I can't do anything from here. Please, sir, let me contribute."

"It's one thing to take orders from a first-rate detective, but to send him into action?" Foley said. "Come on, commissioner, grow a brain."

I don't remember much after my fist hit his jaw.

* * *

The woods were dark and cold as I trekked through them, my frozen breath fogging the air in front of me. I had my gun at the ready and my ears on high alert, waiting for even the _slightest_ sign that there was someone out here. I knew it was a long shot that Fontana had a secret tunnel or something, but whomsoever was doing this _had_ to have a plan B and I was going to find it and stop it before things got any worse.

I was freezing and pissed and I thought about calling Babs, but I figured she had the stealth of a water buffalo and by the time she got there I could've fixed the whole problem anyway, so I was left alone. I had the tracker from Fox in my pocket and I didn't know what I was going to do with it, but better safe than sorry.

The further I went into the forest the more I wanted to turn around and the more I suspected that my theory was bullshit. It was nothing but cold and dark and hopeless, but I figured I hadn't hit Foley for nothing and kept going.

Eventually the light between the trees began to intensify and I was deposited onto an old dirt road, probably forgotten years ago. I pulled my gun from the holster inside my jacket and ducked back behind the trees. If this new threat had found the road they could be crawling all over back here, waiting for the spoils of their latest victory.

I weaved my way through the first row of trees, eyes peeled and ears pricked for any sign of life out there. As I went further down the road I began to see moonlight glinting of some shiny surface. I quieted my gait all the more, creeping through the grass until a sleek black van came into view. I could see no one around it, but it was surely their getaway car and there had to be someone waiting for his comrades to return.

The tracking device was heavy in my pocket. I knew I should just stick it on the bottom of the van and book it, but I itched for a fight. Punching Foley had only stoked my anger and those terrorist scum deserved everything I could throw at them. I cocked my gun, but Babs' voice ricocheted through my head, reminding me that killing wasn't justice. Especially when it was a sneak attack.

I ground my teeth and stuffed my gun back in its holster. Goddamn redhead, getting in my head all the time. The tracking device didn't look impressive in any way, and maybe that was the point, but it just seemed so anticlimactic to skirt across the street, stick it under the bumper and run. My previous conception of justice was that it was big and loud and violent, but maybe the reality was much more subtle. I'd always paid attention to the Batman's huge displays of justice; kicking ass and getting results, but I never considered that that was only half his job.

* * *

When I got home Babs was pacing in the Wayne Manor foyer, biting her nails.

"Where have you been?" She demanded. "I thought you were dead."

"It look a little longer than expected," I replied.

"What happened?" She asked. "Did they get away?"

"I don't know," I told her.

"How do you not know?" She asked. "You were there weren't you?"

"I got kicked out," I grumbled.

"What? Why?"

"They tend to frown on it when you punch your lieutenant in the jaw," I said.

"What?"

"I had to get away," I said. "Get the tracker in place. Foley was in my way."

"Foley?" She asked. "You punched Carl Foley in the face?"

"Did you want me to let them get away?"

"What even happened?" She asked.

"He got in the way, I hit him, I got suspended, I put the tracker-"

"You got _suspended_?"

"They don't just give you a slap on the wrist when you hit a superior officer, Babs."

"They can't suspend you," She said. "There's got to be something we can do. My father-"

"He was there, Babs," I said. "He didn't have a choice."

"But you were just trying to help. Don't they see that?"

"It doesn't matter, Babs."

"Of course it matters," She countered. "That's bullshit."

"It wasn't a big deal, okay?" I said. "If getting suspended is what I have to do to get rid of these bastards I'll be glad to do it."

"I just- I mean, its your _job_," She said. "You can't throw it all away."

"I'll think of something," I said. "Right now our priority is finding out where they're going. I put a tracker on their getaway van."

"You think they got away?" She asked.

"They took on a roomful of cops and got away," I reminded her. "I'm sure they found a way out of a jeweler's house."

"And you think they're gonna take the getaway back to their headquarters or whatever?" Babs asked. "They've got to be smarter than that."

"I guess we'll find out," I said. "Call Fox. Tell him we're on our way."

* * *

Lucius Fox was surprisingly spry at two in the morning. I figured it was because he was finally back in the game. Supplying superheroes with their gadgets. It was weird to think of Babs and I as superheroes when we were walking up his marble stairs; me in my suit, her still in her sports bra and yoga pants. It was a bit of an overwhelming moment, but neither of us had time to be overwhelmed. We had to get there and suit up and get going before we lost anymore of the trail we had going.

Fox opened up the secret room behind his bookcase. I was so familiar with it at that point that it hardly baffled me. Since our conditioning of his help he'd cleared away and rearranged most of the trinkets so that the ones we needed were at the ready. Including our suits, which sat in huge glass cases on the far wall, ready for wear.

I was again faced with the reality that I was not Batman. I wasn't Bruce Wayne. I wasn't rich or important or special in any way. I was a Gotham city cop. Bruce Wayne might not have thought he was anything special either, but he was. He had a mission. He had something to fight for. I had a college girl nagging at my elbow. What made me worthy of the suit in my hands?

"Cold feet, detective?" Babs asked, on account of my hesitation.

"I thought we agreed on black suits," I dodged, holding up mine so she could see the jagged blue line across the chest.

Babs shrugged," I thought black was boring. And blue is night-like too."

"This isn't a fashion show, Babs," I said. "It's dangerous. It's _work_."

"That doesn't mean you can't look good while doing it," She said, stepping into her suit and pulling the skintight material up her body.

It seemed stiff and immovable, and it was; once it was on, but holding it I could hardly imagine it could stop a bullet or allow me any kind of smooth movement. I trusted Fox however and stepped into mine as well. I wasn't a big fan of the blue, but it did fit okay and boosted my confidence a bit. Maybe the Batman hadn't felt special, but in an invulnerable suit with a mask covering my face I didn't have to be Richard Grayson, orphan. I could be anyone I wanted. The bad guys didn't have to know I wasn't special.

Babs suit was black with gold boots, gold gloves, a good bat branded on her chest and a bat-eared helmet to top it all off. I thought it was a little grandiose, but at least she'd forgone the cape. She looked good in it, better than I probably did. She looked right, natural. She didn't have to pretend to be special.

"Like what you see, Boy Wonder?" She asked once she caught me staring.

"You jacked his logo," I said.

"If you'll come this way, I'll give you a way to defend yourself," Fox interrupted, leading Babs and I through more of the gadgets.

"Utility belts?" Babs asked as Fox opened a case.

"Each belt has ten compartments," Fox said. "Smoke pellets, Tasers, grapple hooks, rope and these… I call them batarangs. Guaranteed to stop anyone you might come into contact with as long as they're not wearing your armor. Each belt is made specifically for you and opens using only _your_ fingerprint.

"No guns," I commented.

"No, but there is one thing I think you'll like…" He continued, pulling out two identical platinum sticks and handing them to me. "Better than a gun, eh?"

"I wouldn't say that," I told him, weighing the sticks in my hands.

"How come he gets a cool toy?" Babs asked. "Where's mine?"

"For you, Miss Gordon," Fox said. "I have something even better. If you'll follow me to the garage."

We clicked on our belts, which were surprisingly light for having containing everything Fox said, and followed him further into his Fox hole (that's what I'd taken to calling it) and into the lower level garage where he had many decommissioned vehicles, including prototypes for the Batman's high tech car. At the end of the garage sat a sleek, shiny, black motorbike.

"It's fully equipped with every technological device you could ever want Barbara," Fox said. "Including the map for the tracking device."

"Wicked, Lucius," Babs beamed, running her hands over the polished leather seats. "All for me?"

"We began production on one for Mr. Grayson as well," He said. "But it's not quite finished yet. I hadn't expected you to find trouble so soon."

"Trouble is my best friend, Lucius," Babs said. "We can't stay apart for long."

"Unfortunately, for tonight, you'll have to share," Fox said, in regards to the bike.

"Share?" Babs scoffed.

"Unless you want to roll up in a police cruiser," He told her.

Babs pouted, "Fine. But you're on the back, _Robin_."

I let her use of my middle name slide for a moment, "Do you even know how to _drive_ a motorcycle?"

"Would Lucius have made me one if I didn't?" She asked, throwing a leg over the seat and testing the handlebars.

"Do you have a motorcycle _license_?" I asked.

"For two years now," She replied. "But I've never had the time or money to buy an actual bike. Now will you take the badge off and get on the bike, please?"

"That door leads out to an old road that leads to Cedar Street," Fox said, pointing to a large garage door at the end of the hall. "It'll take you anywhere you want to go."

"Looks like your tracking device is somewhere downtown," Babs said, hunched over her bike and examining a screen that I hadn't realized was there. "By that new club. You know, the one we met at on Christmas Eve?"

I nearly choked on my own tongue, "Yeah, I know that one."

"You think they took their spoils to a night club?" She asked.

"What other leads do we have?"

"Worth a shot," She shrugged. "Shall we?"

"I swear to Christ if you wreck us I will tell your father everything you've been up to," I told her as I settled onto the back of the bike.

"Come on, Dick," She said over her shoulder. "Don't you trust me?"

* * *

I directed Babs through the back roads of Gotham and to the nightclub. There wasn't much chance we could ride in on our fancy motorcycle, in our skintight suits without being seen. It was beginning to seem more and more likely that they had dumped the van and switched cars before they went back to their base, but we couldn't just go home that easily. I had Babs park the bike a few streets down and we took the alleyways around to the back of the club.

"Everything about this is screaming 'dead end,' Dick," Babs told me.

"There's got to be some kind of lead here," I said. "If we could just find the van I could check for clues."

"Well, gee, Fred," Babs smirked. "Should we split up?"

"Just bear with me, okay?" I said. "Detective work isn't all glitz and glamour."

"And here I thought the Batman was a nice break from the police force," She said.

"I'm not Batman," I reminded her, slinking around the corner of the alley.

Babs and I slunk down the alley, careful not to call any attention and as we passed a dumpster and came across the same nondescript van I'd seen earlier. It seemed empty, abandoned, but I drew one of the sticks from my boot all the same. Babs glanced sideways at me, drawing a "batarang" out of her belt.

I slowly crept around the car and to the drivers' seat, which I found empty, along with the rest of the car. No treasures, no bad guys, no evidence. A true dead end.

"Should we dust for fingerprints?" Babs asked.

"I doubt they'd be that stupid," I replied. "But why would they leave it _here_? At a night club?"

"It's a pretty good place to go unnoticed," Babs shrugged. "An unmarked van pulling into an alley behind a club? People would just think it was a delivery of some kind."

"I don't see any other tire tracks," I said.

"So?"

"So that means they didn't switch cars," I said. "There's only the tracks leading into the alley and stopping when the van does."

"It's only water," She said. "Maybe it dried."

"Faster than the tracks laid after it?"

"Maybe they had an invisible helicopter that carried their goods to their evil headquarters," She suggested.

"Or maybe, their evil headquarters are so close they didn't need a car to take their goods to it," I said.

"Where would it be?" She asked. "There are no apartments or empty warehouses around here. Someone would notice if there were a bunch of guys carrying stolen jewels through downtown Gotham."

"What if…" I nodded to the steps that led down to the basement of the club.

"Yeah right," Babs scoffed. "We're not in a comic book. People don't actually run huge heists out of nightclub basements."

"It's the only logical solution," I said.

"Alright, say you're right," She said. "Do you suggest we just go barging down into a place full of guys who don't give a damn about killing cops, let alone to whackadoos in skintight suits. There's bravery and then there's stupidity, Dick."

"We've got to do something," I said. "There's a lead here and if we skip out before finding it we're potentially condemning ourselves and Gotham to an even worse fate than Bane."

Babs sighed heavily, "I could bug it, but I have to have a way in there where I won't be noticed."

"I can cover you," I said.

"I'm not letting you in there by yourself," She said. "You'll be like a pig for the slaughter if you waltz in there alone."

"I'm not gonna go looking for a fight," I said. "But I can handle myself if I run into one."

"I won't be the reason you get killed," She said.

"Then make it quick," I suggested.

* * *

The door to the basement of the club was locked, which was surprisingly surprising, but thanks to Babs and her superior lock-picking skills, we had it open in minutes. The door opened to a dark corridor that looked exactly like a basement, when I had expected a setup not unlike the batcave. There didn't seem to be anyone lurking about, but Babs and I both drew our weapons.

"Where does one start when bugging the enemies' lair?" I asked.

"Air vents," Babs said. "I'll see where they lead and place the bugs accordingly."

"You'll be okay up there?" I asked.

"Safer than you down here, alone," She replied. "We don't have to do this you know. We could come back with my father and special forces and SWAT and-"

"And tell them what?" I asked. "That I snuck off into the woods with a tracking device and found their getaway car and traced them back to a nightclub? They'll never believe me and I'm suspended anyway."

"We could leave an anonymous tip," She shrugged.

"We need to figure this out first," I told her. "Find out what their doing and why they're doing it. You said yourself that some jobs are not for the police to handle."

"Yeah, and some jobs are not for two vigilantes with a Taser."

"You saw what they did to the cops before, Babs," I said. "This is a job that has to be done discreetly."

She looked up at me with an expression not unlike her father's; like I was right and had she not been so involved with the situation she would have agreed it was the right choice without hesitation. Babs was very close to me, whispering right into my face. I could just make out the green in her eyes behind the mask and the shadows of the basement.

"I'll need a boost then," She said.

I linked my fingers and lifted her up to an air vent where she used a grappling hook to break it open. I lifted her higher so she could pull herself up into the vent. Once she was up she cast me one last look, like I'd break and decide to leave if she gave me puppy dog eyes. I just nodded to her and she disappeared into the vent, leaving me alone in the corridor.

* * *

I expected standing guard in enemy headquarters to be a little more eventful than it turned out to be. I couldn't hear much behind the three doors that occupied the corridors and I was insanely curious as to what was behind them, but I knew I would just be walking into a trap if I indulged and I needed to remain here for when Babs returned.

So far, taking over for the Batman had been an extremely boring job. Part of me wanted someone to come out of those doors because it would give me something to do. I was beginning to understand that being Gotham's savior wasn't all about brutality, but it couldn't _all_ be planting bugs and sneaking through alleyways.

I took to pacing. There wasn't much else to do and, given the night's events, I was pretty wound up. Adrenaline coursed through my veins like a virus nagging me to pick a fight, do some training, lift a car. Something. But here I was, playing watchdog, marinating in my unrest.

As I stalked down to the end of the hallway the second door swung open and two of thugs came out. I retracted towards the wall, behind the door and gripped my sticks tightly in both hands. They hadn't seen me yet. I slowly followed them, ready to strike, but neither of them seemed rather equipped for a fight.

I was close enough now to hit one of them over the head with my sticks and he fell to the ground with a grunt. The second guy whipped around, eyes blazing and threw a couple of untargeted blows. I dodged them easily, hitting him in the jaw with the back of my fist. He fell against the wall, but he wasn't down yet so I went with a kick to his stomach, sending him flying backwards and onto the floor where he hit his head and fell unconscious as well.

Breathing heavily, I looked down at my work with somewhat dissipated anger and gritted my teeth. At least I knew that this was where their base was. That doubt had been worrying at the back of my mind since we'd come in here.

"Dick," A sharp voice whispered from above.

I looked up to see Babs' bat-headed face looking down at me.

"What happened?" She asked.

"A little tussle," I shrugged. "Find everything okay?"

"You wouldn't believe," She replied, shifting so her legs hung down from the vent. "They've got the whole spread. I saw tons of the little henchmen, but there didn't seem to be any established leader. It was disgusting. They were toasting, _celebrating_. They mean business."

"Yeah, well," I said, reaching up and taking her hips to lift her down. "When these guys wake up they'll be sure to spread the word that we found their stash."

"Are you okay?" Babs asked, looking down at the unconscious men on the floor.

"I'm fine," I said. "They didn't even see me coming."

"The bugs are in place," She told me. "I'll install a file for the recordings when we get home."

"Any chance they'll find the bugs?"

"There's always a chance," She replied. "But we'll be able to learn a little something before they find them. If they find them."

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

"I'm fine," She replied.

"What do you say _I _drive home, then?"

* * *

By the time we got back to the manor it was past four in the morning, but I wasn't feeling tired in the least and neither was Babs, it appeared. She was positively chipper as she skipped past me, swinging her bat-eared cowl.

"You ready to download that surveillance for me?" I asked.

"Work, work, work," She sighed. "We've done enough for tonight."

"_You've_ done enough," I corrected. "I stood in a hallway kicking at the dirt."

"Oh, please," She scoffed. "If it wasn't for you we would have never even _found_ the van, or the club. Not to mention your little altercation with Foley. If that's not cause for celebration then I don't know what is."

"It's late, Babs,"

"Well, it's not like you have to work in the morning," She smirked. "Come on. I'll meet you in your room in ten minutes. I'll install the surveillance if you have a drink with me…"

I sighed heavily, "Fine. One drink."

"One drink's all I need."

* * *

It was surprising to me just how comfortable the suit was, despite it's rigid material, and once I had it off I felt like I'd shed a second skin. A second part of me. I wondered if that was how the Batman felt. I'd met him as both of his identities and it was still easy for me to think of them as two different people. It seemed appropriate to separate the two. _I know who it was: it was the Batman._

Maybe Gordon was right. That wasn't Bruce Wayne out there fighting crime; that was Batman. That was the point, I supposed. Justice didn't need a face. It only needed an enforcer. That was me now, but it wasn't necessarily Dick Grayson.

"Alright, lets get this show on the road," Babs said, dancing into the room.

She had two bottles of beer and some flash-drive looking thing in her hands. She, too, had changed out of her suit and into a pair of shorts and my Police Academy T shirt. I hadn't realized she still had it.

"That's my shirt," I commented.

"Finders keepers," She replied, handing me a beer. "Now, drink and be merry."

"Surveillance," I reminded her.

"God, _yes_," She rolled her eyes. "I'm doing it. Slow your roll, Boy Wonder."

"Your jubilance is exhausting," I said.

"So is your dutiability," She replied as she began to type things into my computer. "Your badge is showing."

"I'm just saying," I said. "Just because we found their secret evil lair doesn't mean we've stopped them. We still have a ways to go."

"But we accomplished _something_ at least," She said. "We have more than we did yesterday."

"That's true," I admitted.

"See?" She said. "Now shut up and drink your beer."

"You're not downloading a bunch of porn onto my laptop are you?" I asked.

Babs snorted, "No. But I could."

"Oh, please do," I laughed. "Now that I'm suspended I'll need something to do."

"I was serious about talking to my father, you know," She said, turning in the chair so her chin rested on the back of it. "I know he doesn't want you suspended."

"I don't want any favors," I said. "I did what I did and these are the consequences."

"But its not like you did it just because," She said. "You had a reason."

"That I can't tell anyone."

"Foley deserved it and you know it," She said. "My dad knows it, too."

"Just because he deserved it doesn't mean it was justified," I said. "But what really pisses me off is that by doing it I just proved to him that I'm a hothead."

"Like he didn't push you," She said.

"Well," I shrugged.

"They won't keep you off for long," She told me. "You're one of the best they have. Besides, I don't think my dad could go a day without you."

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Install things."

"Will you relax?" She laughed. "It's loading. Takes a while. Looks like you'll have to actually talk to me."

"I don't think anything we do can really qualify as talking," I said.

"Oh, please," She scoffed. "I'm the best conversation you've ever had."

I watched as she crossed the room and looked over the CDs on my shelves. Her red hair was down and swinging long down her back, almost to her ass. Which looked rather enticing in the pajama shorts she was wearing. My view of her ass led to the creamy white length of her legs.

She looked good in just about anything, but that night, when she was barefoot and comfortable, ready for bed, was how I preferred her. Unlike the ball where she was drop-dead gorgeous in that dress and unlike an hour before in her skintight suit where she was strong and capable, in her pajamas she was _real_. I felt like I could touch her, I felt like we were at the same level.

"You think the Batman ever celebrated?" She asked.

"From what I saw he took his work _pretty_ seriously," I said. "He did seem a little sweet on Catwoman, though."

"Catwoman?" Babs asked.

"Yeah, you know," I said. "Selina Kyle. Cat burglar. They crossed paths a couple times. Rumor has it she still has his Batpod."

"Hmm," She considered. "I guess it never occurred to me that he might've had a girlfriend. I mean, I know Bruce Wayne had his flings, but it's probably hard for someone like him to have anything serious."

"I don't think it was ever serious with Selina Kyle," I said. "She was a petty thief. Smart, but she used men like Gameboys. Batman could've just been a signpost."

"It's hard to think of him as an actual person, you know?" She said. "I mean with actual emotions and feelings. But that could just be because I've never met him."

"Believe me, I've met him," I said. "It's still hard to picture him with any emotions. Besides blind determination at least. But he is a man. And men have needs."

"Oh, do they?" Babs smirked, coming back over to the desk with me. "You think the Batman was as good at sex as he was at fighting?"

"You'd be surprised how similar the two are," I replied.

"The sex you have must be much different than the sex I have," She said. "Because the two seem like polar opposites to me."

"Then you haven't been doing it right," I told her.

She looked up at me with one eyebrow raised and half her mouth turned up in a smile. So close to me that it was hard to imagine _not_ touching her, especially when she looked so inviting. I inched closer to her to sweep her hair back behind her ear.

Her smirk disappeared, "What are you doing?"

I decided to answer with my mouth rather than my words, with a careful kiss.

"Dick…" She breathed, pulling back. "Don't."

I moved in front of her, hands on her upper arms, "Don't what?"

"You know what," She said.

"What? This?" I kissed her again, this time more deeply and she waited a moment before pulling away again.

"We can't," She whispered.

"Why not?"

"You know why not," She sighed.

"Why not?" I repeated.

"It's… it's too complicated."

"What's complicated about it?"

"Everything," She said. "Everything. If you think about it…"

"Then don't think about it."

I kissed her one final time, hoping the third time would be the charm and, to my surprise, it was. She pressed her mouth firmly against mine, fisting her hands in my shirt. I slid one arm around her waist, pulling her against me. Her tongue slid against mine, dragging me further into the headiness of her desire.

We pressed tighter together, making our way backwards to my bed. I rubbed my fingers around to her back until they were beneath her shirt, where I found that she wore nothing underneath. This spurred me into faster action, pulling my shirt up and over her head and lowering her onto the mattress before us.

* * *

The last time we did this it was sloppy and fast and hard. The second time it was- well not exactly _slow_, but I was trying to take my time. Babs was like liquid beneath me, writhing, her back bowing against my mattress. She was relentless. It was obvious she wanted control, but I knew if I yielded like I did the first time it'd be over before I'd know it. I wanted this to be different. I wanted her to have everything I could give.

I set a slow, rough pace that just barely had us in control. She was clawing at my back, surely leaving marks, and I had to fist my hands in the sheets beside her just for purchase. Barbara Gordon was an intoxicating woman just as she was, but when she was actually trying it was next to impossible to resist. Each time my lips touched her skin I had a new reason to keep going.

The more I tried to maintain my restraint the more Babs tried to corrupt it. She was always trying to get me to cut loose and now she had me exactly where she needed me to do just that. Once her hands traveled up to my neck to tug on my hair, I'd had enough. I reached back and pried both hands off and brought them above her head, pinned against the wooden headboard.

She half smirked up at me in victory until I broke her stoic face with a brusque thrust. I reveled in the surprised groan she let out and slid one of my hands down her body to her hip. With her arms restrained she had no other way of keeping contact besides her legs. I could feel the new muscle she'd built since our first time we'd been together as she locked her thighs around my hips.

"God, Dick…" She huffed, her words fanning hotly against my neck.

There are very little things in this world that truly make me speechless, but being in bed with Barbara Gordon, buried to the hilt, pressed together, is perhaps the most effective. I couldn't articulate any discernable words; all that came out were restrained guttural noises.

Only moments later, Babs was moaning audibly and grinding her hips against me, trying to move things along as best she could in her position. I attempted to hold her still with my hand on her hip, but she would not be deterred. My mouth slid down the side of her neck, sucking and biting in its wake, leaving my mark on her as she certainly had on my back.

"Dick. Faster." She pleaded.

I didn't oblige, to her dismay and she tried desperately to relieve some of her frustration, but she didn't have much wiggle room. As the minutes ticked by I tried to keep a plausible time frame, but every second screamed that it was sufficient enough. The way her stomach slid against mine and her breasts bounced with each thrust were enough to bring lesser men to their knees and no doubt _had_.

"Jesus Christ," I gritted through clenched teeth, burying my face in the crook of her neck.

"Come on, Dick," Babs begged. "_Let go_."

I wasn't sure if she meant her hands or my marbles, but it was going to be one or the other. In the end my body decided for me and Babs did as well and we both cried out as sensory overload came into play. For a moment all I could do was revel in the bliss, but once I came back to myself I looked down to see Babs still lost in the throes of her orgasm.

Tears slipped from her eyes in what I assumed was sheer shock and I leaned down to gently kiss them away. In all my years and all my women I had never caused such a reaction. I was glad, first because I possessed that talent and second because Babs was the first to receive such pleasure.

"God," She panted, her chest still heaving. "I have to say that was better than the last time."

"Inebriation does tend to take the skill out of it," I replied, nuzzling her jaw.

"Skill indeed," She nodded. "I'll be surprised if I can walk tomorrow."

"That makes two of us," I said.

I had released her hands and they now rested on my shoulders, lightly, like she didn't want to press too hard and restart something. I, on the other hand, was _hoping_ to restart something and slid my hands down her back, which arched under my touch. I kissed my way down her neck and her collarbone to her bare chest. She giggled as I traveled even lower, pulling me back up before I got where I really wanted to be.

"I'm getting the feeling that you're not completely satisfied," She said.

"If you promise not to leave this bed I'll promise to be satisfied," I told her.

"Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet," She smiled a sardonic smile and turned me over so she was on top.

* * *

"Babs," I called softly, shaking her hip. "Babs, wake up."

She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, "Dick?"

"Morning," I said.

Groaning into her pillow as her body woke up, she twisted in the sheets, pulling the edge up to cover her naked chest. Her hair was messy and there was a dark purple mark on her neck from my mouth. The first time we'd slept together I didn't get a good look at her the morning after, but I was looking now. She was glowy and doe-eyed, sporting swollen lips and smudged mascara.

"I made breakfast," I said, setting a tray on the nightstand.

"Jesus, how long have you been up?" She asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"About an hour," I said. "It's almost one."

"One?" She asked.

"You slept for almost eight hours," I said.

"Mmm," She mumbled. "You wore me out."

I reached out and took her chin, leaning in for a kiss, but she pulled back before my lips could touch hers.

"Come on, Dick," She said. "Don't."

"Don't what?" I asked.

"Kiss me."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it last night," I said.

"Last night was-"

"Last night was what?" I asked. "_Nothing_?"

"I told you," She said. "It's too complicated."

"Not too complicated for you to sleep with me," I said. "Twice."

"Forgive me for indulging a little bit."

"No, I won't forgive you," I said. "You don't get to make love to me and then act like it never happened. Not again."

"Well, then, what do you suggest?" She asked.

"Talk to me?" I suggested. "Tell me what's happening in that crazy head of yours."

"_Nothing_ is happening," She insisted. "We were drunk the first time and that was… fine, but we said it wouldn't happen again and here we are."

"Doesn't the fact that it _did_ happen again warrant some kind of discussion?" I asked.

"What makes you think I'd want to discuss it?"

"Babs, you've got to talk to me," I said. "Half the time I don't know if you're coming or going and the other half I just want you. I'm a cop, Babs. It's my job to read people but I can't get a read on you."

"Yeah, well, I've been evading cops since I was born," She said.

"You're the first girl I've never been able to predict," I told her.

"Are you really pulling the 'you're not like other girls speech?'" She scoffed.

"Well, you're not," I said. "And I like that. And I like you. And you like me so-"

"I don't just _like_ you, Dick, alright?" She said. "I've been in love with you for over a year now."

I didn't have anything to say to that. Of all the times Barbara Gordon surprised me that was probably the biggest one. I found myself staring after she said it, searching my brain for any clues to back up her statement. The fact of the matter was, there were none. At least none that I, or anyone else, could pick up on, because this was Barbara Gordon and there was no ground to stand on.

I believed her of course, because of all the things Babs was, a liar was not one of them and I'd never heard her say anything she didn't mean. Or didn't want to mean.

"And you didn't think to tell me this?" I asked.

Babs looked up from where she was hiding her face behind her hand, "No. I didn't think to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you're… you," She said. "And I'm me."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I didn't think you'd like me," She said. "And if you didn't… want to be with me, I'd at least be your friend."

"You didn't think I'd _like_ you?" I repeated.

"I thought you'd think I was weird. Or crazy."

"I _do_ think you're weird," I told her. "And crazy. But I also think you're smart. And strong. And beautiful."

"What's your point?" She asked, jaw tight.

"My point is: there's nothing holding us back." I slid my hand onto her cheek, turning her face towards mine. "'There's always people you care about.' Bruce Wayne told me that. I didn't think it was true. I didn't _want_ it to be true. Caring about people is weakness. Caring about people is just one more thing they can use against you. And then you came along. And you're the first person I've let myself care about. You're the first person that I haven't sat up worrying about. You're the first person I haven't been afraid will be ripped away from me and I'm asking you not to ruin that."

"I was six years old when my father faked his death," She said. "But I remember it _perfectly_. When those cops came to the door and told my mother he was dead she _crumbled_. And it wasn't the first night she'd stayed up until ridiculous hours waiting to hear if her husband was alive or dead, either. At six I was too young to fully comprehend what was really happening, but as I got older I began to understand. And when I was sixteen I vowed that I would never end up like her: waiting -_always waiting_- for the man I love to be pronounced dead."

"You think you'll have to wait for me?" I asked. "That's bullshit. The only reason I'll ever make you stay up until to ridiculous hours is if you're out there _with_ me. Or _in _with me."

"It's not that easy," She said.

"It is," I countered. "You just have to trust me."

She huffed through her nose, half scoff, half sob. Tears were welling up in her eyes and she looked away from me, shaking her head. I thought she was going to jump from the bed and run screaming from the house, but at the last second she lurched forward and smashed her lips against mine.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my lap so she was straddling me. The bed sheet was trapped between us, sliding down so her bare chest was pressed against mine. I ran my fingers down her back, making her shiver. Her arms were tight around my neck, holding us together like the loops of a knot.

My hands slid down onto her ass, pressing her hips right against mine. She let out a surprised noise, just like the night before, and tipped her head back. I kissed over her long neck, tasting the angry skin where I'd left the hickey. She seemed especially pliant when I kissed just under her jaw and she melted against me, like warm honey.

"Break my heart and I'll break your spine," She warned.

"I don't doubt it," I mumbled against her neck.

"I should probably get dressed now," She said.

I pulled back to look at her face, which was flushed and hot, "Why?"

"You know why," She said.

"I actually want to show you something," I said.

"Show me what?" She asked, biting her lip.

"It's a surprise," I said. "But you should wear something you're not afraid to get wet."

* * *

A/N: I have just pulled an all-nighter for you guys to get this up. I apologize for my prolonged absence, I was busy with graduation and doing adult things and being responsible and all that noise, but I am back now and I've finally gotten to write my favorite part and I really hope you enjoy it and I hope that it makes up for your incredible patience. I love you all and thanks for the reviews and favorites, keep on trucking my loves!

-J


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